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Call out your Fire Department, go deputize your bums; Gather in your gunmen and stool pigeons from the slums; You may resolute till doomsday, you ill-begotten knave; We'll still be winning Free Speech Fights when you are in your grave! You reprobate, you imp of hate, you're a traitor to the mind That brought you forth in human shape to prey upon mankind.
"I might have known you bums were up to some crooked work." Poleon likewise rose and ranged himself with the trader. "Ba Gar! I don' stan' for dat," said he, excitedly. "You want for jump Necia's claims, eh?" "As long as I'm chairman we'll have no rough work," declared Stark, glaring at them.
But that's jest the ignorant bums that ain't got no more learnin' than'll let 'em lose their cents reg'lar at 'draw. Ther's others who don't jest use langwidge only their feet. Then ther's the foreman, Lal Hobhouse. Mebbe you ain't acquainted yet you bein' new around these parts. He's a fine bully feller till he gits mad. Then he's mean, ma'am. Guess he's most as mean as a skunk.
When he came to the scene where he knelt by the side of the flying yegg and solemnly swore to forever quit the path Slippery had shown him, he felt a strange power drag him out of the bed, force him to kneel upon the floor and repeat the sacred promise to shun Bums, Booze and Boxcars and then, when he went again to bed, it was only a few moments until he was soundly sleeping.
Now, I do not wish to idealize those stiffs. No use saying they were honest workingmen kidnaped to sea. They were not. They were just what the mates called them dogs, scum, vile sweeps of jail and boozing-ken. With the single exception of the shanghaied parson, there was not a decent man in the lot. Bums and crooks, all. These men had lived violent, lawless lives ashore.
"And I got held up in an alley off Washington Avenue, and they got the last twenty bones off'n me, and I was flatter 'n a pancake. So I says 'ish kabibble, and I sneaks onto the blind baggage, and bums my way West. You'd 'a' died laughing to seen me throwing my feet for grub. Oh, I'm some panhandler!
We got to lie around crazy enough to fancy we're goin' to git the drop on these bums. What a country! What a cuss of a lay-out wher' you got to set around watching a darnation gang o' toughs whittlin' away your work till they got you beat to a mush. Here, I'm goin' to start right in. I'm goin' to get around Calthorpe. The sheriff's got to git busy, an' earn his monthly pay check.
Then, too, there were a lot of lazy bums who wouldn't let you go and you'd get to drinking more in spite of yourself. No, no, no more for him. After lunch he would always begin to perk up and deny that he had been really drunk the night before. Maybe just a bit lit up. He was rock solid and able to drink anything he wanted without even blinking an eye.
It seemed to Father that he was in a wild Western melodrama, and he helplessly muttered, "Gosh! Can you beat it?" The man with the leveled shot-gun drawled, "I'm the deputy sheriff for this locality and I'll give you dirty bums just five minutes to pick up your duffle and git out, and keep a-going. I guess we don't need you around here. You been robbing every hen-roost for ten miles.
"But," said he, "there is no room for bums here." This absolute disbelief in other countries, combined with a perfect confidence in their own, has persuaded the citizens of New York to look down with a cold and pitiful eye upon those who are so unfortunate as to be born under an effete monarchy. There is no bluster in their attitude, no insistence.
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