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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

In the Tunnel

By Bret Harte (1836–1902)

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.