That Dickerer Jim—Shenanigan Jim.

I never see’d hoss jockey equal to him.

He’d rather swap hosses than eat a good meal,

He’d take all the chances—and Jim wouldn’t

squeal!

He’d talk like a cyclone on any old skate

—Take a wheezy old pel ter with hopity gait

And he’d make you believe—would that Dick-

erer Jim—

There were all kinds of pedigrees tied up in

him.

And you bet your old boots, if he got you in

range

He could touch you all right for a sale or a

“change.”

—As keen as a brier, as sharp as a knife

He never got phazed except once in his life.

And that was a corker, by ginger, on him,

On Dickerer Jim—Shenanigan Jim.

He loaded a breather—a reg’lar old rip

On a man from the city—just did it by lip.

Talked the man dumb and silly and giv’ him the

hooks

Till the chap forked his money just simply on

looks.

And he went back to town with a big double

cross

In the shape of a whoofity plug of a boss.

Jim—Jim,

Shenanigan Jim,

Didn’t you—didn’t you soak it to him!

Jim—Jim,

As a sample of “trim”

That feller was pruned to the very last limb.

Now Dickerer Jim—Shenanigan Jim—

Was down in the city. His eyesight was dim;

So he couldn’t keep lookout, and first thing he

knew

Right plumb up against him that city chap

blew.

He recognized Jim—Jim hadn’t seen him—

Till the feller grabbed holt; then the chances

seemed slim

For avoidin’ a scrimmage, for seldom is seen

A chap that’s so mad that his face is pea green.

But his tongue wasn’t ready as quick as his

sight;

Now Jim couldn’t see, yet his tongue was all

right,

And away he went, lickity-whizzle! Talk,

talk!

While the feller was still scoring down in a

balk

With his mouth propped apart; oh, he’d plenty

to say,

But Jim, goin’ steady, had levelled away.

And he told that ’ere feller he’d hunted for him,

—Did Dickerer Jim—Shenanigan Jim.

The feller allowed he’d been huntin’ some, too,

But Jim didn’t hesitate—slam-banged it

through!

Says he, “I’ve been sorry I sold you that hoss

And the minit I sold him I knew’twas a loss.

For the very same day that you took him away

I met with a chap that I figger will pay

A clean and cool hundred above what you giv’,

—I can load that ’ere hoss on that chap, sure’s

you live.

That feller he wants him—lie’s anxious to pay;

Now what shall I say to him—what shall I

say?”

Then the sucker he tore and he swore, and says

he,

“Go tell him the same blasted lie you told me!

He’ll buy, don’t you worry! You’ll tag him—

he’s It,

—That’s a lie you can never improve on a bit!”

Jim—Jim,

Shenanigan Jim,

That was a side-windin’ answer for him.

Jim—Jim,

Jest turned and he “clim’”

For he see’d there warn’t stretch in the chap’s

t’other limb.