No. 41. The Runaway Banker.
Say, victims, hab you seen the Banker,
Wid de mustache on his face,
Go 'long de road some time dis morning,
Like he gwine to leab de place?
He see de smoke way up de railroad,
Where de locomotives lay;
He took his hat an' lef' berry sudden,
An' I 'spec' he's ran away.
De Banker run, ha, ha!
De victims stay, ho, ho!
It must be now de kingdom's coming,
And de year of Jubilo.
De victims are so lonesome, libbin'
In de sod house on de claim,
Da' move der tings to de Banker's parlor,
For to keep it while he's gone.
Dar's wine and cider in de kitchen,
An' de victims dey got some;
I s'pose dey'll all be "resubmitted"
When de Knights of Labor come.
De sheriff he did make us trouble,
And he dribe us round a spell;
We lock him in de smoke-house cellar,
Wid de key thrown in de well.
De club is lost, de handcuff broken,
De Banker'll get his pay;
He's old enough, big enough, he ought to know better,
Dan to went to Canada.