Classic Poem

My name is Stanford Barnes, I come from Nobleville town;
I've traveled this wide world over, I've traveled this wide world round.
I've met with ups and downs of life, but better days I've saw;
But I've never knew what mis'ry were till I came to Arkansas.

I landed in St. Louis with ten dollars and no more;
I read the daily papers till both my eyes were sore;
I read the evening papers till at last I saw
Ten thousand men were wanted in the state of Arkansas.

I wiped my eyes with great surprise when I read this grateful news,
And straightway off I started to see the agent, Billy Hughes.
I handed him five dollars though it gave my heart a shock;
I was soon on the railway bound for the city of Little Rock.

I started off one morning at a quarter after five,
I started from St. Louis half dead and half alive;
I bought me a quart of whisky my misery to thaw;
I got as drunk as a biled owl when I left for old Arkansas.

I landed in Fort Smith one sultry Sunday afternoon;
It was in the month of May, the early month of June,
Up stepped a walking skeleton with a long and lantern jaw,
Invited me to his hotel, “the best in Arkansas.”

There met me at the depot this seedy-looking chap,
With a ragged coat and britches and an old and greasy cap.
Says he, “Good morning, gentlemen, the morning's rather raw,
On yonder hill stands my hotel, the best in Arkansas.”

I started off next morning to catch the morning train;
He says to me: “You'd better work. I have some land to drain.
I'll pay you fifty cents a day, your board, washing and all—
You'll find yourself a different man when you leave old Arkansas.”

I met with good connections and started for the camp,
Where every accommodation was fitted for the tramp;
I slept beside the fire without tent or bed or straw,
As I worked upon the railroad in the state of Arkansas.

I worked six weeks for the son-of-a-gun, Jesse Howard was his name,
He was six feet seven in his stocking feet and taller than any crane.
His hair hung down in strings over his long and lantern jaw,
He was the photograph of all the gents who live in Arkansas.

He fed me on corn-dodgers as hard as any rock,
Until my teeth began to loosen and my knees began to knock;
I got so thin on sass'fras tea I could hide behind a straw,
And indeed I was a different man when I left old Arkansas.

I started out next morning at a quarter after five;
I staggered into a saloon, half dead and half alive;
I called for liquor merrily, I called for whisky raw;
I jumped the train for Chicago and good-by to Arkansas.

Farewell to swamp angels, canebrakes and chills;
Farewell to sage and sass'fras, and corn-dodger pills;
If I ever see this land again, I'll give to you my paw,
It will be through a telescope from here to Arkansas.