BESS. 



EDWARD D. HILLMAN. 



Yu want er yarn o' fightin' ? 



Wall, lads, now lem'me see; 

 'Twns out 't ole Fort Tietan, 



En the fall o' '63. 



Says, "Boys, we're goin' ter lick 'em 

 Es they've nare bin licked afore, 



An' the guns '11 jes' nigh kick 'em 

 Thro' St. Peter's pearly door." 



One day er chap cum tearin' 



On er broncho, 'crosst thur plain, 



Er cussin' an' er swearin', 

 An' jes' raisin' merry Cain. 



I was layin' et er gun hole, 



Er lookin' fur the reds ; 

 Jes' tho't thet nigh the sun knoll 



Thur cusses ud show thar heads. 



When sumthin' cum er creepin' 



An' nestlin' up ter me, 

 An' thar wus Bess er peepin' 



Ez ef shed like ter see. 



Sort uv chummy like an' knowin', 

 An' I stroked her curly head; 



Poor Bess wus left er lone, 

 As how her Ma wus dead. 



I told her thar wus danger 

 In thar an' right ahead. 



She — dumb es any stra'anger — 

 Jes' shook her curly head. 



Sed thur Injuns wus er comin', 

 'Bout 4 mile arter him; 



So we hustled in thur wimmin. 

 An' the Kunnel, stern an' grim, 



The reds wus now er fightin', 

 An' bullets 'gin tu fly. 



Each feller lay er sightin' 

 An' wus prepared to die. 



194 



