Thomas R. Lounsbury, ed. (1838–1915). Yale Book of American Verse. 1912.
Table Mountain, 1870Francis Bret Harte 18361902
Francis Bret Harte200 Plain Language from Truthful James
W
And my language is plain,
That for ways that are dark
And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar,
Which the same I would rise to explain.
And I shall not deny, In regard to the same, What that name might imply; But his smile it was pensive and childlike, As I frequent remarked to Bill Nye. And quite soft was the skies; Which it might be inferred That Ah Sin was likewise; Yet he played it that day upon William And me in a way I despise. And Ah Sin took a hand: It was Euchre. The same He did not understand; But he smiled as he sat by the table, With the smile that was childlike and bland. In a way that I grieve, And my feelings were shocked At the state of Nye’s sleeve, Which was stuffed full of aces and bowers, And the same with intent to deceive. By that heathen Chinee, And the points that he made, Were quite frightful to see,— Till at last he put down a right bower, Which the same Nye had dealt unto me. And he gazed upon me; And he rose with a sigh, And said, “Can this be? We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor,—” And he went for that heathen Chinee. I did not take a hand, But the floor it was strewed Like the leaves on the strand With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding, In the game “he did not understand.” He had twenty-four jacks,— Which was coming it strong, Yet I state but the facts; And we found on his nails, which were taper, What is frequent in tapers,—that ’s wax. And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar,— Which the same I am free to maintain.