Ballad of the Gungywamp Detective

 

 Ballad of the Gungywamp Detective.

 

                                                      I.

Jim Potter allus hed a bug thet he wuz purty bright,

Thet he could beat a cat or owl at seein’ in the night;

An’ he wuz allus plunkin’ round at night, “becuz,” says he,

“I am a born detective, an’ I cannot help it, see?”

One time he bought a shiny badge, he got it way out west,

An’ pinned it in a showy place upon his soiled vest,

An’ then he wuz a sure enough detective, so he thought,

An’ ’lowed thet ev’rybuddy’d better toe the mark or they’d be caught.

 

                              II.

No matter where you wuz at night, or what you tried to do,

Jim Potter he wuz on the spot, an’ hed his eye on you;

He’d foller you o’er hill an’ dale, he’d circle round ahead

An’ be there when you hove in sight, with soft an’ stealthy tread.

An’ by an’ by the folks got sore, they couldn’t stand his game,

An’ so they planned to hold him up to ridicule an’ shame;

They said ef he wuz wondrous bright, and wanted to run down

A reg’lar case they’d give him one, an’ do the thing up brown.

 

                              III.

An’ so they conjured up a scheme to lead him in the night

Off to a lonely, wayback place an’ fill his soul with fright.

They talked uv burnin’ at a stake or hangin’ to a tree,

Or stone him up into a cave an’ end his misery.

Some druther throw him in the Crick, an’ tie him to a stun,

Then pull him to the shore ag’in when he wuz nearly done;

An’ so they hed a dozen schemes fur ol’ detective Jim,

An’ one dark summer night they planned to go an’ lay fur him.

 

                              IV.

They sent a rumor round the town, bank robbers hed been seen,

An’ knew thet Jim would be upon their footprints pretty keen;

So when he skulked around the bank, they grabbed him ha’f a score,

An’ threw him on the ground an’ roped him still an’ sore.

He cursed an’ swore, an’ threatened lives once he wuz clear an’ free;

“I’ll run Ye down,” says he, ‘although I don’t know who you be.”

An’ then they threw him in a cart an’ headed out uv town,

An’ muttered they might string him up or mebbe let him drown.

 

                              V.

Jim he wzu gittin’ purty scat, an’ weakened on the rack;

The men they looked ferocious with their masks an’ rifles black;

They put a rope around his neck, an’ tightened it a bit,

Till Jim beseeched ’em to let him up when he hed passed his fit.

They took him ’neath a big oak tree, an’ set him on the ground

An’ held a council there uv war in manner most profound.

They said they wuz a robber league, an’ worked all through the state,

An’ ev’ry known detective they would soon exterminate.

 

                              VI.

Jim watched ’em fix the hangman’s rope, an’ build the funeral pyre,

An saw ’em load their rifles up, an’ almost heard ’em fire.

He begged an’ squirmed an’ promised ’em thet never more would he

Work the detective scheme in Gungawamp, O, no sir-ee.

He begged so hard an’ plead so long they finley let him go,

An’ chased him out into the night a tremblin’ hulk uv woe;

They took his badge an’ nailed it on the village sign post, then

Retired to their peaceful homes, jest ordinary men.

 

 

Sept. 2, 1911