Derby Day in the Yukon and Other Poems of the "Northland"

Excerpt

GREETING

Shake, Pard! I'm mighty proud o' you!
(I'm know'd as "Yukon Bill");
You blazed th' trail an' blazed it true;——
Some o' my friends I see y' knew
On old Che-cha-ko Hill;
But say, old man, y' clean forgot my friend, "Swiftwater Bill!"
You was a kid in pettic'uts
When I went in, a man;
Grub-stakin' with two other goats——
We sow'd th' last of our wild oats
An' th' new, clean life began;
We was th' fu'st (an' p'raps th' wu'st) Five Fingers' Rapids ran.
I staked out Eldorado crick
Long 'fore th' world was told
Them hills from Hunker to St. Mick
Groaned f'r th' drill an' f'r th' pick,
The'r bellies achin' GOLD!
Where many a night th' moon pale white saw me in blankets rolled.
At Magnet Gulch I lit my pipe——
Got drunk upon Gold Hill;
I hoofed it cle'r t' Kokusqum——
'Twas ther' I lost my Siwash chum
(She drownded in a spill),
An' Love an' Luck together went from pore old Yukon Bill!
Big Skookum claim might a-bin mine,
But fortune ther' I missed;
For all I got a-though I sought——
I starved an' thirsted, dug an' fought,
Was d—— plumbago schist!
Ten years of toil, of muck an' spoil; then on th' "Failure list."
Labarge; th' Canyon; I was there;
I clumb th' Glacier mound.
I might a-bin a millionaire——
God! think of it, and see me—WHERE?
A bum on Puget Sound!——
At night my roof th' open sky—my pillow th' cold ground.
Me for th' trail at seventy!
I'm longin' f'r th' track:
I'll try again—no, I'll not fail——
I hear them "Little Voices" wail:
"Come back! come back! come back!"
O, God! how Mem'ry knifes me now an' puts me on th' rack.
Yes, yes—I failed! Yes, yes, a drink!
An' then my pipe I'll fill.
Boy, here's t' you—y'r picter's true
Of them old sinners that I knew
On old Che-cha-ko Hill;
But say, old man, y' overlooked my friend, "Swiftwater Bill!"

Talk of England's Derby Race; of Kentucky's blue-grass chase;
Epsom Downs an' Frisco "Tanforan" t' boot;
I don't say they ain't done well, but I tell y' even h—ll
Couldn't match th' Yukon racin' malamoot.
How them dogs they love th' Race! Y' kin see it in th' face
Of th' starvin' scut that hangs aroun' th' claim;
F'r he knows, like you an' me, that th' Derby Day'll be
Th' big jag day—th' glad rag play, that brings th' Yukon fame.
It was Fool's Day f'r th' Race; every husky in his place;
Wasky's dogs was runnin' Billy Brown of Nome;
But at th' Starter's line ranged up Jake Berger's Nine,
Ten t' onethey'dbring th' Derby money home!
Thousands hit th' trail that night; we was out t' see th' sight;
Th' stakes, eleven-thousand-plunks in gold!
Th' thermometer on strike—every bench-claim on th' hike——
An' them leaders b' th' leash y' couldn't hold.
Oh, th' run was cruel hard—th' white frost how it scarred
As they galloped down th' long, unending trail;
The whip cut like th' wind, an' Carey's dog, snow-blind,
Joined his howlin' t' th' screeches of th' gale.
Down where Candle's bonfires glow see th' racin' huskies go,
All keen t' win—McCarthy's purp drops dead——
He's thrown out upon th' track f'r th' lean an' hungry pack
Of grey wolves follerin' th' flyin' sled....