THE BINDLE STIFF'S REVENGE

The Lehigh Valley cycle waited many years for completion,
and it is pleasant, indeed, to record that Nellie
has been avenged at last. The work was finished off only
recently by Harry Dawson, a bard who knows his hobo
lingo. The theme has tempted hobo ballad makers for
five decades, but the following poem leaves nothing to be
said. It was clipped from the Smokehouse Monthly.

At a jungle fire by the railroad track
Near the edge of a Kansas town
A hobo was boiling a bucket of slum
As the evening sun went down.

The fragrant smell from the Java can
Made his nostrils quiver and twitch,
As a freight train rattled around the bend
And came to a stop at the switch.

A moment's pause, then the train rolled on,
But during the minute it stopped
Another hobo eased from the rods
And down the embankment dropped.

His hat was greasy, his coat was torn
His pants were a total wreck,
And cinders clung to his grimy face
And coated his filthy neck.

"Ha! Friend of the road! Just in time,"
He croaked with a toothless smile,
"Hand over a shot of that good janoke,
For I've rambled many a mile."

The first bo cringed as he heard that voice
And his face went white as death
As he stumbled back from the jungle fire
With a sob and a catch in his breath.

The stranger noticed these actions strange
And peered through the gathering night
At a pair of eyes wide with fear
And a face aghast with fright.

"So at last it's come," he said with a sneer,
"I've hounded you down, you cur,
And you'll pay tonight for every wrong
That you ever did to her.

"These fifteen years reward me at last.
I knew that the day would come
When I'd see you grovel and cringe and whine
At my feet, you lousy bum.

'Twas you who ruint our little Nell
So that good folks passed her by.
I've hunted this wide world over since,
And tonight you're going to die.

"You led her away with your rotten lies,
Then, clothed in the mantle of shame,
You left her alone in the slums to die,
While you hunted other game.

"Your time has come and you'll never leave
The side of this fire alive!"
Then his hand flashed under his ragged coat
And out came a forty-five.

A muffled roar and a strangling cry,
Then the huddled form lay still
And the killer turned with a misty eye
And gazed at a distant hill.

Then up to the stars he raised his face
Aglow with a strange new light,
And murmured, "Nellie, the debt I owe
Is settled in full tonight."

Hobo's Hornbook, pp 56-58 - last of the Lehigh Sequence

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I'm tired now. Some day, ask me to post the "Down in the Lehigh Valley" songs, #67 in Randolph/Legman "Unprintable Songs."