"I am-- Excuse me, I was--the Alamo. Ye who have tears to shed, Shed. Shades of Crockett, Bowie and the rest Who in my sacred blood-stained walls were slain! Shades of the fifty or sixty solitary survivors, Each of whom alone escaped; And shades of the dozen or so daughters, Sisters, cousins and aunts of the Alamo, Protest! Against this foul indignity. Ain't there enough jobs in the city That need whitewashing Without jumping on me? Did I stand off 5,000 Mexicans in '36 To be kalsomined and wall-papered And fixed up with dados and pink mottoes In '96? Why don't you put bloomers on me at once, And call me The New Alamo?-- Tamaleville! You make me tired. I can stand a good deal yet, So don't have any more chrysanthemum shows In me. If you do I'll fall on you. Sabe?" (_Houston Daily Post_, Monday morning, April 13, 1896.) End of Project Gutenberg's O. Henry Encore, by William Sydney Porter