|Scope & Content||Ballad titled "D___N ANACORTES" by William Devere. Date unknown. This is copied from the only known copy of the ballad which is in the archives of the Washington State Historical Society. It was presented to Mr. Reno Odlin, President of the Society, who as a boy, lived for several years in Anacortes.|
|Caption||Ballad by William Devere presented to Reno Odlin|
Down the Street of a western town,
Beneath the beetling brow of a mountain brown,
Elbowing his way 'mong the bustling throng,
That surged and swayed and jostled along
Came a miner, old and bronzed and gray.
He noticed none as he passed on his way,
But beneath his breath you could hear him say,
The "con" man grasped his horny hand
and prated of friends in a far off land.
He told him of Swiggins, his brother-in-law,
And every friend that he ever saw;
But the miner looked in the distant drear,
As if he were drawing a spectre near,
And only these words could the listener hear:
The dance house girl said, "Won't you come in
And tackle a drop of imported (?) Gin,
And shake a hoof on the "hurdy" floor,
then go to the bar and settle for more?
We will drink together and love is our toast."
With a scornful leer he declined the "Roast",
And he dusted away from the maiden fair,
While back from his track rant out on the air:
The real estate man, hearty and gruff,
Extended his hand and unloaded old Guff;
He told of a country that made people rich
On a gopher hole or a swampy ditch.
But the miner was versed in Los Angeles lore
And San Diego, he'd been there before.
Down at Walla Walla he'd sold a farm,
And at Puyallup a horse and barn;
He'd sold a mine in the Cour d'Alene,
And a herd of cattle from off the plain.
All that he had, every inch of ground,
And he'd joined the stampede down to Puget Sound;
He'd dumped it all in, made a "sucker's" play,
They told him the railroad would come that way.
He'd live on balogna, his hair turned gray,
And now he's a tramp and does nothing but say: