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Poem	With barbwire hooch they filled him full, Till he was drunker than all hell, And then they peddled him the bull About a claim they had to sell. A thousand bucks they made him pay, Knowing that he had nothing more, And when he begged it back next day, And wept! - they kicked him from the door. They reckoned they were mighty slick, Them two tinhorns from Idaho; That poor dumb Swede could swing a pick, but that was all he'd ever know. So sitting in a poker game, They lost the price for which they sold To that bonehead a poor dud claim That didn't have a speck of gold. My story's true as gospel creed Of these bright boys from Idaho; They made a sucker of that Swede And laughed to see the poor boob go, And work like nigger on his ground, Bucked by the courage of despair . . . Till lo! A rich pay-streak he found, That made him twice a millionaire. So two smart Alecs, mighty sick, Begged jobs at fifteen bucks a day. Then said the Swede: "Give each a pick And let them sweat to make their pay." And though he don't know what it means, Folks call that Swede "magnanimous" - But picking nuggets big as beans, you oughta' hear them fellers cuss!
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