O. Henry

THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF O. HENRY


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      I’m thinking tonight 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?

       Tonight 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 tomorrow at four we’ll be jerked out of bed

       To plow on that darned old farm.

      Nothing To Say

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      “You can tell your paper,” the great man said,

       “I refused an interview.

       I have nothing to say on the question, sir;

       Nothing to say to you.”

       And then he talked till the sun went down

       And the chickens went to roost;

       And he seized the collar of the poor young man,

       And never his hold he loosed.

       And the sun went down and the moon came up,

       And he talked till the dawn of day;

       Though he said, “On this subject mentioned by you,

       I have nothing whatever to say.”

       And down the reporter dropped to sleep

       And flat on the floor he lay;

       And the last he heard was the great man’s words,

       “I have nothing at all to say.”

      Tamales

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      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,