Ballad of Jim Jackson, Fool

                                               by Joe Cone

Jim Jackson, he was born a fool,

An’ never went no time to school.

“It ain’t no use,” his father said,

“He ain’t got nothin’ in his head.

He never hez no hope nor wish,

He never wants to hunt or fish;

He never wants to fight nor play,

Nor hev no kind uv any say.

We’ll hev to keep him round the door,

An’ eddicate the other four.”

An’ so the others went to school,

While Jim was left to be a fool.

Jim’s father died; he staid to hum

An’ sorta took things ez they come.

The other four went off to git

Some sudden wealth, an’ lots of it.

They all got married, settled down,

A-findin’ wives who lived in town.

An’ when Jim’s mother up and died,

He took unto himself a bride,

A village gal, who ‘peared to be

About ez awk’ard like ez he.

They snubbed Jim in the weddin’ game –

When he got hitched he did the same.

An’ so the years went by, an’ Jim

Was ignorant, but full uv vim,

An’ had a way uv twistin’ roun’

An’ saltin’ uv his money down.

John owned a store an’ took in Bill,

An’ Ned an’ Tom bought out a mill,

An’ once a year they wrote to Jim

’To find out how life was usin’ him.

Then Jim would scorn their “bizniz air”,

An’ scrawl an’ answer, “purty fair”.

An’ all they knew uv Jim out there,

Was he was doin’ purty fair.

Bime by industry had a shock,

An’ John he got an awful knock;

An’ Ned an’ Tom shet down their mill,

An’ all uv them, includin’ Bill,

Had nearly all the cash they had

Invested in some stock ‘twas bad.

They didn’t know which way to turn,

They wasn’t no way they could earn;

All they could do was set each day

An’ see their savin’s fade away.

It looked right bad, best could be said

For Bill an’ Tom an’ John an’ Ned.

Says Ned, with jest a sickly smile:

“I hear Jim’s got a little pile,

Let’s write the ol’ home-hided lout,

An’ see if he won’t help us out.”

They all agreed the scheme was fine

An’ all uv them dropped him a line;

The language it was high an’ cool,

But good enough fur “Jim, the fool.”

“We are big men compared with him,”

Said they, “this ought to tickle Jim.”

It did, but not in jest the way

They hoped it would, precise to say.

Jim framed a letter in reply

To chill the heart but please the eye.

It read: “I ain’t no punkins on

This letter writin’, Bill an’ John,

Becuz, you know, it’s more than true,

My eddicatin’ went to you.

I ain’t no brighter now than then,

An’ you are brilliant biz niz men.

I’ve saved some money, by the way,

But father always us’ter say

Ez how a fool an’ his long green

Are parted soon. Now I don’t mean

To be right hard, nor tit fur tat,

But I ain’t sech a fool ez that.

I’ve got a house here big enough

Fur all uv you, an’ plenty stuff

To eat, sech ez it is; an’ you,

An’ all your wives an’ children too,

Are welcome here to live until

Your store picks up, likewise your mill.

A fool hain’t got no right to mix

In bizniz or in politics,

But here’s your livin’, if you care;

I hope well – we’re purty fair.”

July 15, ‘09