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's all about 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. "CICELY" (ALKALI STATION) Cicely says you're a poet; maybe,--I ain't much on rhyme: I reckon you'd give me a hundred, and beat me every time. Poetry!--that's the way some chaps puts up an idee, But I takes mine "straight without sugar," and that's what's the matter with me. Poetry!--just look round you,--alkali, rock, and sage; Sage-brush, rock, and alkali; ain't it a pretty page! Sun in the east at mornin', sun in the west at night, And the shadow of this 'yer station the on'y thing moves in sight. Poetry!--Well now--Polly! Polly, run to your mam; Run right away, my pooty! By-by! Ain't she a lamb? Poetry!--that reminds me o' suthin' right in that suit: Jest shet that door thar, will yer?--for Cicely's ears is cute. Ye noticed Polly,--the baby? A month afore she was born, Cicely--my old woman--was moody-like and forlorn; Out of her head and crazy, and talked of flowers and trees; Family man yourself, sir? Well, you know what a woman be's. Narvous she was, and restless,--said that she "couldn't stay." Stay!--and the nearest woman seventeen miles away. But I fixed it up with the doctor, and he said he would be on hand, And I kinder stuck by the shanty, and fenced in that bit o' land. One night,--the tenth of October,--I woke with a chill and a fright, For the door it was standing open, and Cicely warn't in sight, But a note was pinned on the blanket, which it said that she "couldn't stay," But had gone to visit her neighbor,--seventeen miles away!