Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DENVER JIM, by SHERMAN D. RICHARDSON


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

DENVER JIM, by                    
First Line: Say, fellers, that ornery thief must be nigh us
Last Line: It reversed the decision,— the court was adjourned.
Subject(s): Cowboys; Crime & Criminals; Mothers & Sons; Ranch Life; West (u.s.); Southwest; Pacific States


"SAY, fellers, that ornery thief must be nigh us,
For I jist saw him across this way to the right;
Ah, there he is now right under that burr-oak
As fearless and cool as if waitin' all night.
Well, come on, but jist get every shooter all ready
Fur him, if he's spilin' to give us a fight;
The birds in the grove will sing chants to our picnic
An' that limb hangin' over him stands about right.

"Say, stranger, good mornin'. Why, dog blast my lasso, boys,
If it ain't Denver Jim that's corralled here at last.
Right aside for the jilly. Well, Jim, we are searchin'
All night for a couple about of your cast.
An' seein' yer enter this openin' so charmin'
We thought perhaps yer might give us the trail.
Haven't seen anything that would answer description?
What a nerve that chap has, but it will not avail.

"Want to trade hosses fur the one I am stridin'!
Will you give me five hundred betwixt fur the boot?
Say, Jim, that air gold is the strongest temptation
An' many a man would say take it and scoot.
But we don't belong to that denomination;
You have got to the end of your rope, Denver Jim.
In ten minutes more we'll be crossin' the prairie,
An' you will be hangin' there right from that limb.

"Have you got any speakin' why the sentence ain't proper?
Here, take you a drink from the old whiskey flask.
Ar' not dry? Well, I am, an' will drink ter yer, pard,
An' wish that this court will not bungle this task.
There, the old lasso circles your neck like a fixture;
Here, boys, take the line an' wait fer the word;
I am sorry, old boy, that your claim has gone under;
Fer yer don't meet yer fate like the low, common herd.

"What's that? So yer want me to answer a letter,—
Well, give it to me till I make it all right,
A moment or two will be only good manners,
The judicious acts of this court will be white.
'Long Point, Arkansas, the thirteenth of August,
My dearest son James, somewhere out in the West,
For long, weary months I've been waiting for tidings
Since your last loving letter came eastward to bless.

"'God bless you, my son, for thus sending that money,
Remembering your mother when sorely in need.
May the angels from heaven now guard you from danger
And happiness follow your generous deed.
How I long so to see you come into the doorway,
As you used to, of old, when weary, to rest.
May the days be but few when again I can greet you,
My comfort and staff, is your mother's request.'

"Say, pard, here's your letter. I'm not good at writin',
I think you'd do better to answer them lines;
An' fer fear I might want it I'll take off that lasso,
An' the hoss you kin leave when you git to the pines.
An' Jim, when yer see yer old mother jist tell her
That a wee bit o' writin' kinder hastened the day
When her boy could come eastward to stay with her alway.
Come boys, up and mount and to Denver away."

O'er the prairies the sun tipped the trees with its splendor,
The dew on the grass flashed the diamonds so bright,
As the tenderest memories came like a blessing
From the days of sweet childhood on pinions of light.
Not a word more was spoken as they parted that morning,
Yet the trail of a tear marked each cheek as they turned;
For higher than law is the love of a mother,—
It reversed the decision,— the court was adjourned.





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