Classic Poem

There was a gink
Blew into camp
Not very long ago
Who'd make you think
He had a lamp
Like no one here below.
He bragged about
The fights he had,
He built up quite a rep;
Without a doubt
We thought him bad,
A party full of pep.

His laigs, his arms,
He said were swell,
His uppercut a peach;
His other charms
He used to tell —
His footwork an' his reach.
He bullied us,
I must confess;
We let him have his way:
An' not a cuss
But answered yes,
Whatever he would say.
The matter might
Have gone along
The way that it had been,
But Monday night,
When feelin' strong,
He sort of sauntered in
An' made a crack
If any hick
Should give him any jaw
He'd beat him black,
For he could lick
The whole of Arkansaw.

I needn't state
The details now
Or which one was the one
That couldn't wait,
But, anyhow,
The jamboree-begun.
The gang an' me
Commenced to maul
An' pound the geezer good.
He said that he
Could lick us all —
An', darn the luck, he could!