Poems (Terry, 1861)/Done for
III.DONE FOR.
A week ago to-day, when red-haired Sally Down to the sugar-camp came to see me,I saw her checked frock coming down the valley, Far as anybody's eyes could see.Now 1 sit before the camp-fire, And I can't see the pine-knots blaze,Nor Sally's pretty face a-shining, Though I hear the good words she says.
A week ago to-night I was tired and lonely, Sally was gone back to Mason's fort,And the boys by the sugar-kettles left me only; They were hunting coons for sport.By there snaked a painted Pawnee, I was asleep before the fire;He creased my two eyes with his hatchet, And scalped me to his heart's desire.
There they found me on the dry tussocks lying, Bloody and cold as a live man could be; A hoot-owl on the branches overhead was crying Crying murder to the red Pawnee.They brought me to the camp-fire, They washed me in the sweet white spring;But my eyes were full of flashes, And all night my ears would sing.
I thought I was a hunter on the prairie, But they saved me for an old blind dog;When the hunting-grounds are cool and airy, I shall lie here like a helpless log.I can't ride the little wiry pony, That scrambles over hills high and low;I can't set my traps for the cony, Or bring down the black buffalo.
I'm no better than a rusty, bursted rifle, And I don't see signs of any other trail;Here by the camp-fire blaze I lie and stifle, And hear Jim fill the kettles with his pail.It's no use groaning. I like Sally, But a Digger squaw wouldn't have me!I wish they hadn't found me in the valley,— It's twice dead not to see!