Jack And Me.
By George Augustus Baker, Jr.
Shine! All right; here y'are, boss!
Do it for jest five cents.
Get 'em fixed in a minute,
That is, 'f nothing perwents.
Set your foot right there, sir.
Mornin's kinder cold,
Goes right through a feller,
When his coat's a gittin' old.
Well, yes, call it a coat, sir,
Though 't aint much more 'n a tear.
Git another! I can't, boss;
Ain't got the stamps to spare.
"Make as much as most on 'em!"
Yes; but then, yer see,
They've only got one to do for,
There's two on us, Jack and me.
Him? Why, that little feller
With a curus lookin' back,
Sittin' there on the gratin',
Warmin' hisself, that's Jack.
Used to go round sellin' papers,
The cars there was his lay;
But he got shoved off of the platform
Under the wheels one day.
Fact, the conductor did it,
Gin him a reg'lar throw,
He didn't care if he killed him;
Some on 'em is just so.
He's never been all right since, sir,
Sorter quiet and queer;
Him and me goes together,
He's what they call cashier.
Style, that 'ere, for a boot-black,
Made the fellers laugh;
Jack and me had to take it,
But we don't mind no chaff.
Trouble! not much, you bet, boss!
Sometimes, when biz is slack,
I don't know how I'd manage
If 't wa'n't for little Jack.
You jest once orter hear him:
He says we needn't care
How rough luck is down here, sir,
If some day we git up there.
All done now, how's that, sir?
Shines like a pair of lamps.
Mornin'! Give it to Jack, sir,
He looks after the stamps.