HARD TO FORGET
I'm thinking to-night of the old farm, Ned,
And my heart is heavy and sad
As I think of the days that
by have fled
Since I was a little lad.
There
rises before me each spot I know
Of the old home in the
dell,
The fields, and woods, and meadows below
That memory holds so well.
The city is pleasant and
lively, Ned,
But what to us is its
charm?
To-night all my thoughts are fixed, instead,
On our childhood's old home farm.
I know you are thinking
the same, dear Ned,
With your head bowed on your
arm,
For to-morrow at four we'll be jerked out of bed
To plow on that darned old farm.
DROP A TEAR IN THIS SLOT
He who, when torrid Summer's sickly glare
Beat down upon
the city's parched walls,
Sat him within a room scarce 8 by 9,
And, with
tongue hanging out and panting breath,
Perspiring, pierced by pangs of
prickly heat,
Wrote variations of the seaside joke
We all do know and
always loved so well,
And of cool breezes and sweet girls that lay
In
shady nooks, and pleasant windy coves
Anon
Will in that self-same room,
with tattered quilt
Wrapped round him, and blue stiffening hands,
All
shivering, fireless, pinched by winter's blasts,
Will hale us forth upon
the rounds once more,
So that we may expect it not in vain,
The joke of
how with curses deep and coarse
Papa puts up the pipe of parlor
stove.
So ye
Who greet with tears this olden favorite,
Drop one for
him who, though he strives to please
Must write about the things he never
sees.
TAMALES
This is the Mexican
Don José Calderon
One of God's
countrymen.
Land of the buzzard.
Cheap silver dollar, and
Cacti and
murderers.
Why has he left his land
Land of the lazy man,
Land of the
pulque
Land of the bull fight,
Fleas and revolution.
This is the
reason,
Hark to the wherefore;
Listen and tremble.
One of his
ancestors,
Ancient and garlicky,
Probably grandfather,
Died with his
boots on.
Killed by the Texans,
Texans with big guns,
At San
Jacinto.
Died without benefit
Of priest or clergy;
Died full of minie
balls,
Mescal and pepper.
Don José Calderon
Heard of the
tragedy.
Heard of it, thought of it,
Vowed a deep vengeance;
Vowed
retribution
On the Americans,
Murderous gringos,
Especially
Texans.
"Valga me Dios! que
Ladrones, diablos,
Matadores,
mentidores,
Caraccos y perros,
Voy a matarles,
Con solos mis
manos,
Toditas sin falta."
Thus swore the Hidalgo
Don José
Calderon.
He hied him to Austin.
Bought him a basket,
A barrel of
pepper,
And another of garlic;
Also a rope he bought.
That was his
stock in trade;
Nothing else had he.
Nor was he rated in
Dun or in
Bradstreet,
Though he meant business,
Don José Calderon,
Champion of
Mexico,
Don José Calderon,
Seeker of vengeance.
With his stout
lariat,
Then he caught swiftly
Tomcats and puppy dogs,
Caught them
and cooked them,
Don José Calderon,
Vower of vengeance.
Now on the
sidewalk
Sits the avenger
Selling Tamales to
Innocent
purchasers.
Dire is thy vengeance,
Oh, José Calderon,
Pitiless
Nemesis
Fearful Redresser
Of the wrongs done to thy
Sainted
grandfather.
Now the doomed Texans,
Rashly hilarious,
Buy of the
deadly wares,
Buy and devour.
Rounders at midnight,
Citizens
solid,
Bankers and newsboys,
Bootblacks and preachers,
Rashly
importunate,
Courting destruction.
Buy and devour.
Beautiful
maidens
Buy and devour,
Gentle society youths
Buy and
devour.
Buy and devour
This thing called Tamale;
Made of rat
terrier,
Spitz dog and poodle.
Maltese cat, boarding house
Steak and
red pepper.
Garlic and tallow,
Corn meal and shucks.
Buy without
shame
Sit on store steps and eat,
Stand on the street and eat,
Ride
on the cars and eat,
Strewing the shucks around
Over
creation.
Dire is thy vengeance,
Don José Calderon.
For the
slight thing we did
Killing thy grandfather.
What boots it if we
killed
Only one greaser,
Don José Calderon?
This is your deep
revenge,
You have greased all of us,
Greased a whole nation
With your
Tamales,
Don José Calderon.
Santos Esperiton,
Vincente
Camillo,
Quitana de Rios,
De Rosa y Ribera.
 A letter to
his daughter Margaret.
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