With the starry flag above it—to be used should we forget,—
And that somewhere chained and hidden with the yellow-legs in town
Were a dozen dainty blood-hounds that would gladly hunt us down.
Then two Kanawha cossacks came to where Bill Parsons stood,
They grabbed him tight on either arm to make sure he'd be good.
Said Bill, "Don't fret, I won't fight yet, I know what I'm about;
But wait till spring and hear me sing to see the leaves come out.
We'll make you pay, remember that, for all the dirt you do,
And when the hills are not so bare we'll settle up with you!"
The dough-boys knew what Bill meant, they gathered round him thick,—
The very thought of leafy hills would always make them sick.
And then it happened, that one thing that lashed us like a goad,
They took Bill's woman by the arm and dragged her to the road.
Big Jurgot jerked her brutally and swung her half around
And when she cursed him in her pain he knocked her to the ground. . . .
But Bill's boy Buddy, like a flash, sprang over where she fell;
"I'll fix you yet, you Baldwin cur, I'll send your soul to hell!"
Big Jurgot cowered back afraid of brave young Buddy's eye,
47
