 |
| The Collected Letters of REH |
Roses laughed in her pretty
hair,
Shading her eyes from the
sun’s rude stare
A little hand was prettily
raised,
Nor ever enough might it be
praised.
Five little fingers, soft
and white,
A dimple, a sheer kiss of
delight.
But, miss, a hand that I
held in mine,
Some nights ago was e’en
more fine.
A hand that I must grant
more praise,
Three aces and a pair of
treys.
But
poker wasn’t the only game in town for REH and his friends. Tucked away in the last two pages of REH’s
semi-autobiographical book, Post Oaks and
Sand Roughs (PO&SR) is a poem
that pays tribute to another card game:
The Seven-Up Ballad
Carl
Macon was a kollege kid of far and wide renown,
Also a
champ at seven-up and the wildest sot in town.
And in
a way there came a day of high and lofty fame
For
title of the eating house was the prize for a game.
Carl
gave a yell and dealt the cards unto the other chumps
And
they all whooped with joyous glee when diamonds turned up trumps.
“High,
jack and game is here, begad!” Pink bellered with a scowl;
“You
lie, you sot! You have it not!” Carl answered with a yowl.
Pink led the ace of trumps full soon, and “There,” said he,
“is high!”
Carl followed suit, it was a trey, with a tough light in his
eye.
Then Pink led out the queen of trumps and gave an ugly
frown;
Carl snickered with unholy glee and laid a four spot down.
Pink
swore full long and loud and rough and led the deuce of clubs;
Carl
caught it with a king and said, “You’re all a lot of dubs.”
He led
an ace and caught a king, “Here’s a game for me, egad!”
For
many an ace and many a face the wicked scoundrel had.
And
then an argument arose and loud was their abuse
And
Pink got into lead again with a nine upon a deuce.
Then
Pink laid down the diamond king and feinted with his right,
“Egad,
that jack of yours will go, if it takes the rest of the night.”
Carl
drank four pints of beer or so and at his hand he glanced —
He
flung his cards at Stupid’s head and in his rage he danced
Then
with a curse that would, egad, clean freeze a camel’s humps,
Beside
the king that Pink had led he put the jack of trumps.
“Hold
on! Begad!” somebody said, “That king’s been led, by damn!”
“Too
late, too late!” the sot replied, “It is, it was, it am!”
Then
long and loud the battle raged until the evening meal,
They
punched each other in the nose and bit each other’s heel.
The
battle lasted all that night; at last the field was clear,
And
Pink had high and jack and game and Carl was drunk on beer.
