FLYNN OF VIRGINIA. BY BRET HARTE.
Reading edition
Didn’t know Flynn— Flynn of Virginia— Long as he’s been ’yar? Look’ee here, stranger Whar hev you been?
Here in this tunnel He was my pardner, That same Tom Flynn— Working together, In wind and weather, Day out and in.
Didn’t know Flynn! Well, that is queer. Why, it’s a sin, To think of Tom Flynn— Tom, with his cheer; Tom, without fear— Stranger, look ’yar!
Thar in the drift, Back to the wall, He held the timbers Ready to fall; Then in the darkness I heard him call: “Run for your life, Jake! Run for your wife’s sake! Don’t wait for me.” And that was all Heard in the din, Heard of Tom Flynn— Flynn of Virginia.
That lets me out Here in the damp— Out of the sun— That ’ar derned lamp Makes my eyes run. Well, there—I’m done.
But, sir, when you’ll Hear the next fool Asking of Flynn— Flynn of Virginia— Just you chip in, Say you knew Flynn; Say that you’ve been ’yar.