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Updated: June 13, 2025
There was runnin' and cursing but Jim yelled out, Over all the infernal roar, "I'll hold her nozzle agin the bank Till the last galoot's ashore." Through the hot, black breath of the burnin' boat Jim Bludso's voice was heard, And they all had trust in his cussedness, And knowed he would keep his word.
And sure's you're born, they all got off Afore the smokestacks fell; And Bludso's ghost went up alone In the smoke of the Prairie Belle. He weren't no saint but at the judgment I'd run my chance with Jim 'Longside of some pious gentlemen That wouldn't shake hands with him.
Or the engineer, again, on the Mississippi, who, when the steamer caught fire, held, as he had sworn he would, her bow against the bank, till every soul save he got safe on shore: Through the hot black breath of the burning boat Jim Bludso's voice was heard; And they all had trust in his cussedness, And knew he would keep his word.
And, sure's you're born, they all got off Afore the smokestacks fell, And Bludso's ghost went up alone In the smoke of the "Prairie Belle." He weren't no saint, but at jedgment I'd run my chance with Jim, 'Longside of some pious gentlemen That wouldn't shake hands with him.
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