Selected Poetry.

Evening Star, Issue 7177, 2 April 1887, Page 2 (Supplement)

Selected Poetry.

THE LATEST CHINESE OUTRAGE,

It was noon by the sun; we had finished our game, An«l was passin’ remarks goin’ back to our claim; Jones was countin’ his chips, Smith rehevm his mind Of ideas that a “straight” should beat “three of a kind," When Johnson of Elko came gallopm down, With a look on his face ’twixt a grin and a frown, 1 And he calls: “Drop your shovels and face rightabout, . For them Chinees from Murphy s are cleanm us out— With theh ching-a-ring-chow And their chic-colorow They’re bent upon making No slouch of a rowj Then Jones—my own pardner—looks up with a sigh, “ It’s your wash-bill,” sez he, and I answers: “You lie!” But afore he could draw or the others could arm, Up tumbles the Bates’ boys, who heard the alarm, And a yell from the hilltop and roar of a gong. Mixed up with remarks like “Hi I yi! Ohang-a-wong,” And bombs, shells, and crackers, that crashed through the trees, Revealed in their war-togs four hundred Chinees! Four hundred Chinee; We are eight, don’t ye see ! That made a square fifty To just one o’ wei They were dressed in their best, but I grieve that that same Was largely made up of our own, to their shame; And my pardner’s best shirt and his trousers were hung On a spear, and above him were tauntingly swung; While that beggar, Chey Lee, like a conjuror eat Pallin’ oat eggs and chickens from Johnson s best hat; And Bates’s game rooster was part of their “loot,” And all of Smith’s pigs were skyngled to boot. But the climax was reached, and I like to have died, When my demijohn, empty, came down the hillside,— Down tho hillside— What once held the pride Of Robertson County Pitched down the hillside. Then we axed for a parley. When out of the din To the front comes a-rockin that heathen, Ah Sin! “ You owe flowty dollee—me washee you camp, You catchee my washee —me catehee no stamp; One dollar hap-dozen, me no catchee yet, Now that flowty dollee—no hab ?—you can get? Me catchee you pigee—me sellee for cash, It catchee me licee—you catchee no ‘ bash ’; Me belly good Sheliff—me lebbee when can, Me alee same halp pin as Melioan man! But Melioan man He washee him pan On bottom, side Lillee ' And catchee—how can?” “ Are we men? ” says Joe Johnson “and list to this jaw, Without process of warrant or color of law ? Are we men or—a chew ?” here he gasped in bis speech, For a stink-pot had fallen just out of his reach. “ Shall we stand here as idle, and let Asia pour Her barbaric hordes on this civilised shore ? Has the White Man no country ? Are we left in the lurch ? And likewise what’s gone of the Established Church ? One man to four hundred is great odds, I own, But this ’yet’s a White Man—l plays it alone!" And he sprang up the hillside—to stop him none dare— Till a yell from the top told a “ White Man was there! ” A White Man was there! We prayed he might spare Those misguided heathens The few clothes they wear. They fled, and he followed, but no matter where; They Jed to escape him—the “ White Man was there”— Till we missed first his voice on thepine-wooded slope, And we knew for the heathen henceforth was no hope; And the yells they grew fainter, when Petersen said, “It simply was human to bury his dead.” And then, with slow Lead, We crept up in dread, But found nary mortal there, Living or dead. But there was his trail, and the way that they came, And yonder, no doubt, he was bagging his game. When Jones drops his pickaxe, and Thompson says “Shoo! ” And both of ’em points to a cage of bamboo Hanging down from a tree, with a label that swung Conspicuous, with letters in some foreign tongue, Which, when freely translated, the «ame did appear Was the Chinese for saying: “A White Man is here! ” And as we drew near, In anger and fear, Bound hand and foot, Johnson Looked down with a leer! In his mouth was an opium pipe—which was why He leered at us so with a drunken-like eye! They had shaved off his eyebrows, and tacked on a cue, They had painted his face of a coppery hue, And rigged him all up in a heathenish suit, Then softly departed, each man with his “loot.” Yes, every galoot, And Ah Sin, to boot, Had left him there banging Like ripening fruit. At a mass meeting held up at Murray’s next day There were seventeen speakers and each had his say; There were twelve resolutions that instantly passed. And each resolution was worse than the last; There were fourteen petitions which, granting the same, Will determine what Governor Murphy’s shall name; And the man from our district that goes up next year Goes up on one issue—that’s patent and clear: “ Can the work of a mean, Degraded, unclean Believer in Buddha Be held as a lien ?”

THE BEAUTIFUL SPINSTER. A TROB LOVE BTOBT. Said an elderly widower once to a beautiful Spinster; “My love all deception discards; I’ll make you a husband most loyal and dutiful ; Encumbrance I’ve none, save a sou in the Guards. “ He’s a ‘misogynist’; that is the way, lady, They speak of a man with suoh doctrines as his; He’s a hater of women, I’m sorry to say, lady.” Sighed the beautiful spinster i “I know that he is.” Said the widower: “ Yours shall be grandest of marriages; Ton shall have presents in brilliant array; You shall have servants, and horses, and. carriages ; Sweetest of all, you shall have your own way. “ Mansion at London and villa at Ghelten’am, House boat at Datchet and yacht shall be thine; So shall my boxes, with millions of wealth in ’em; Say then, enchantress, Oh, will you be mine?” Said the beautiful spinster: “Oh, where shall I borrow Fit language to thank yon? Resist yon, who can ? At one of the clock, if you’ll come here tomorrow, You shall have my fond answer, dear elderly man.” Next day the spruce widower, rapture elating mm, Kept the charming appointment, precisely at one, And found this delightful announcement awaiting him—- “ Dear elderly party, I’ve married your son. —‘Harper’s Bazar.’ LEFT. “ iVe a trunk you cannot lift,” said he, “ Ha ! ha I ” said the luggage-man. “ Lead on! ” he cried, “or stand aside— I’ll bet you a dollar I can 1 ” He followed fast till they stopped at last—- “ Now lift that trunk," said he; ; But he lost his bet, for it stands there yet- 1 The trunk of a poplar tree I