"'Thar's a band of us settin' 'round when this lover of Polly's shows in the door, drinkin' an' warblin' that entertainin' ditty, which goes:""'"Thar sits a dog, by a barn door, An' Bingo is his name, O!
An' Bingo is his name."
"'As Polly's other beau comes in, we ceases this refrain.He pitches his rifle to the landlord over the bar, an' calls for a Baldface whiskey toddy.He takes four or five drinks, contemplatin' us meanwhile a heap disdainful.Then he arches his back, bends his elbows, begins a war-song, an' goes dancin' stiff-laig like a Injun, in front of the bar.This is how this extravagant party sings.It's what Colonel Sterett, yere, to whom I repeats it former, calls "blanket verse.""'"Let all the sons of men b'ar witness!" sings this gent, as he goes skatin' stiff-laig about in a ring like I relates, arms bent, an' back arched; "let all the sons of men b'ar witness; an'
speshully let a cowerin' varmint, named Sam Enright, size me up an'
shudder! I'm the maker of deserts an' the wall-eyed harbinger of desolation! I'm kin to rattlesnakes on my mother's side; I'm king of all the eagles an' full brother to the b'ars! I'm the bloo-eyed lynx of Whiskey Crossin', an' I weighs four thousand pounds! I'm a he-steamboat; I've put a crimp in a cat-a-mount with nothin' but my livin' hands! I broke a full-grown allagator across my knee, tore him asunder an' showered his shrinkin' fragments over a full section of land! I hugged a cinnamon b'ar to death, an' made a grizzly plead for mercy! Who'll come gouge with me? Who'll come bite with me?
Who'll come put his knuckles in my back? I'm Weasel-eye, the dead shot; I'm the blood-drinkin', skelp-t'arin', knife-plyin' demon of Sunflower Creek! The flash of my glance will deaden a whiteoak, an'
my screech in anger will back the panther plumb off his natif heath!
I'm a slayer an' a slaughterer, an' I cooks an' eats my dead! I can wade the Cumberland without wettin' myse'f, an' I drinks outen the spring without touchin' the ground! I'm a swinge-cat; but I warns you not to be misled by my looks! I'm a flyin' bison, an'
deevastation rides upon my breath! Whoop! whoop! whoopee! I'm the Purple Blossom of Gingham Mountain, an' where is that son of thunder who'll try an' nip me in the bud! Whoop! whoopee! I'm yere to fight or drink with any sport; any one or both! Whoopee! Where is the stately stag to stamp his hoof or rap his antlers to my proclamations! Where is that boundin' buck! Whoopee! whoop! whoop!""'Then this yere vociferous Purple Blossom pauses for breath; but keeps up his stilt-laig dance, considerin' me meanwhile with his eye, plenty baleful.We-all on our parts is viewin' him over a heap respectful, an' ain't retortin' a word.Then he begins ag'in with a yelp that would stampede a field of corn.
"'"Who is thar lovelier than Polly Hawks!" he shouts."Show me the female more entrancin', an' let me drop dead at her feet! Who is lovelier than Polly Hawks, the sweetheart of Flyin' Bison, the onchained tornado of the hills! Feast your gaze on Polly Hawks; her beauty would melt the heart of Nacher! I'm the Purple Blossom of Gingham Mountain; Polly Hawks shall marry an' follow me to my wigwam! Her bed shall be of b'ar-skins; her food shall be yearlin'
venison, an' wild honey from the tree! Her gown shall be panther's pelts fringed 'round with wolf-tails an' eagles' claws! She shall belt herse'f with a rattlesnake, an' her Sunday bonnet shall be a swarm of bees! When I kiss her it sounds like the crack of a whip, an' I wouldn't part with her for twenty cows! We will wed an'
pop'late the earth with terror! Where is the sooicide who'll stand in my way?""'At this p'int the Purple Blossom leaves off dancin' an' fronts up to me, personal.
"'"Whoopee!" he says; "say that you don't love the girl an' I'll give you one hundred dollars before I spills your life!""'Which, of course, all these yere moosical an' terpshicoreen preeliminaries means simply so much war between me an' this sperited beau of Polly's, to see who'll own the lady's heart.I explains that I'm not jest then fit for combat, sufferin' as I be from that overabundance of dog an' b'ar.The Purple Blossom is plumb p'lite, an' says he don't hunger to whip no cripples.Then he names a day two months away when he allows he'll shore descend from Gingham Mountain, melt me down an' run me into candles to burn at the weddin' of him an' Polly Hawks.Then we drinks together, all fraternal, an' he gives me a chew of tobacco outen a box, made of the head of a bald eagle, in token of amity, that a-way.
"'But that rumpus between the Purple Blossom an' me never does come off; an' them rites over me an' Polly is indef'nitely postponed.The fact is, I has to leave a lot.I starts out to commit a joke, an' it turns out a crime; an' so I goes streakin' it from the scenes of my yoothful frolics for safer stampin' grounds.
