A Good Fellow

A poem by William F. Kirk

Dey tal me ay ban a gude faller.
Ay guess dey ban right; but, yee whiz!
Ef yu ever ban a gude faller,
Yu know 'bout how costly it is.
Ay vork op in voods since Nowember,
And ban op on drive all the spring,
And den ay com down har in city
And vatch all my riches tak ving.

Oh, yes, ay ban yolly gude faller, -
All venter ay eat pork and beans;
Ay only ban har since last Monday,
Now ay ant got cent in my yeans.
Dese geezers dat call me "Old Stocking,"
And pat me lak hal on the back,
Skol give me gude snub 'bout to-morrow,
And calling me "slob lumberyack!"

Ay meet bunch of fallers last Monday,
Yust after ay cashing my check;
Ay s'pose dat ay have it all coming.
Val, ay getting it gude, right in neck.
Ay meet little blonde, her name's Yulia,
Ay tenk dis har Yulia ban Yew;
She touch me for 'bout saxty dollars,
And little gold watch ay have, tu.

But Yulia she call me gude faller,
Ay s'pose she tenk dat vill help some;
And all of dem call me gude faller,
And helping to put me on bum.
Val, back to the pines, Maester Olaf,
And driving yure old team of mules.
Put dis in yure pipe, tu, and smoke it:
Gude fallers ban mostly dam fules.

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