Home
Fictions/Novels
Short Stories
Poems
Essays
Plays
Nonfictions
 
Authors
All Titles
 






In Association with Amazon.com

Home > Authors Index > Browse all available works of Yukon Bill > Text of Red-Jacket

A poem by Yukon Bill

The Red-Jacket

________________________________________________
Title:     The Red-Jacket
Author: Yukon Bill [More Titles by Bill]

Where it's eighty below zero, there you'll find the Northland hero,
Red-Jacket; bully Boy he is--sure thing he fills the bill!
In that trackless waste of snow, where the Northern Lights hang low,
He is doing deeds of daring that would make your pulses thrill:--

AN' WE'LL DRINK T' YOU, RED-JACKET;
THE EQUATOR OF YOUR VEST
BUNCHES ALL THE PRIDE AN' GLORY
OF TH' WILD AN' WOOLLY WEST!

Red-Jacket does no askin', but he's ready for th' taskin'
When they sling him out his orders, with a hunk o' pemmican;
An' he'll travel day an' night after Red-man or bad white,
An' he'll go through hell-an'-blazes, BUT HE'LL NEVER MISS HIS MAN!

HE LAUGHS AT DEATH AN' DANGER,
FOR TH' CHIN-STRAP ON HIS JAW
IS TH' LINK THAT BINDS CREATION:--
BRITISH FAIR-PLAY, AN' TH'--LAW!

The spur hitched to his heel--at his hip th' gleam of steel,--
With his belly-band strapped tighter his hunger to forget,
He may drop upon th' track BUT YOU BET HE WON'T TURN BACK--
For it's duty, Duty, DUTY! That's Red-Jacket's am-u-let!

AN' IT'S "HI! YOU SKULKIN' HUSKY"!
O'ER TH' WINTRY, WIND-SWEPT GROUND,
THE DOG HIS LONE COMPANION--
AND THE SILENCE THAT IS SOUND!

Oh, the Arctic wilds are weary, and the Arctic nights are dreary;
And Red-Jacket sometimes wonders why he's livin' th' wild life?
Then he eyes th' British Flag; says: "GOD BLESS YOU, YOU OLD RAG!
It's through courtin' YOU I've neither child nor wife"!

THEN A SHAMED AN' SILENT TEAR
FALLS UPON THE ARCTIC SNOWS;
AN' THE ANGUISH OF HIS HEART,
GOD--AN' RED-JACKET, KNOWS!

Now, you folks, don't get hard thinkin' when Red-Jacket starts a-drinkin',
An' he busts th' Ten Commandments into five-an'-twenty bits;
When he hears th' bugles sound, ain't he fu'st upon th' ground?
An' don't his "powders" cure 'em of the'r hell-damnation fits?

SO WE'LL DRINK T' YOU, RED-JACKET!
GOD'S BLESSIN' ON Y'R HEAD;
YOU'RE TH' BRITISH CON-STI-TOO-SHUN
BOUND IN YELLA' STRIPES, AN' RED!


[The end]
Yukon Bill's poem: Red-Jacket

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN