The Poem

Old man never had much to say— 'Ceptin' to Jim.— And Jim was the wildest boy he had— And the old man jes' wrapped up in him! Never heerd him speak but once Er twice in my life,—and first time was When the army broke out, and Jim he went, The old man backin' him, fer three months; And all 'at I heerd the old man say Was jes' as we turned to start away,— "Well, good-by, Jim: Take keer of yourse'f!"

'Peared-like, he was more satisfied Jes' lookin' at Jim And likin' him all to hisse'f-like, see? 'Cause he was jes' wrapped up in him! And over and over I mind the day The old man come and stood round in the way While we was drillin', a-watchin' Jim— And down at the deepot a-heerin' him say, "Well, good-by, Jim: Take keer of yourse'f!"

Never was nothin' about the farm Disting'ished Jim; Neighbors all ust to wonder why The old man 'peered wrapped up in him; But when Cap. Biggler he writ back 'At Jim was the bravest boy we had In the whole dern rigiment, white er black. And his fighten' good as his farmin' bad— 'At he had led, with a bullet clean Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen, The old man wound up a letter to him 'At Cap. read to us, 'at said: "Tell Jim Good-by, And take keer of hisse'f!"

Jim come home jes' long enough To take the whim 'At he'd like to go back in the calvery— And the old man jes' wrapped up in him! Jim 'lowed 'at he'd had sich luck afore, Guessed he'd tackle her three years more. And the old man give him a colt he'd raised, And follered him over to Camp Ben Wade, And laid around fer a week er so, Watchin' Jim on dress-parade— Tel finally he rid away, And last he heerd was the old man say, "Well, good-by, Jim: Take keer of yourse'f!"

Tuk the papers, the old man did, A-watchin' fer Jim— Fully believin' he'd make his mark Some way—jes' wrapped up in him!— And many a time the word 'u'd come 'At stirred him up like the tap of a drum— At Petersburg, fer instunce, where Jim rid right into their cannons there, And tuk 'em, and p'inted 'em t'other way, And socked it home to the boys in gray, As they scooted fer timber, and on and on— Jim a lieutenant and one arm gone, And the old man's words in his mind all day,— "Well, good-by, Jim: Take keer of yourse'f!"

Think of a private now, perhaps, We'll say like Jim, 'At's clumb clean up to the shoulder-straps And the old man jes' wrapped up in him! Think of him—with the war plum, through. And the glorious old Red-White-and-Blue A-laughin' the news down over Jim, And the old man bendin' over him— The surgeon turin' away with tears 'At hadn't leaked for years and years, As the hand of the dyin' boy clung to His father's, the old voice in his ears,— "Well, good-by, Jim: Take keer of yourse'f!"