Jim at Sixteen

Corpy,^[1] it pinch me so,
De bloomin’ ole handcuff;
A dun no warra mek^[2]
You put it on so rough.

Many a póliceman
Hab come to dis before;
Dem slip same like a^[3] me,
An’ pass t’rough lock-up door.^[4]

Mumma, no bodder^[5] cry,
It should an^[6] hotter be;
I wouldn’ heed you when
You use’^[7] fe talk to me.

I run^[8] away from you
Same as I tu’n out school,^[9]
‘Caus’n a didn’ want
To stan’ under no rule.^[10]

An’ though you send^[11] fe me,
A wouldn’ face de home;
Yet still dem^[12] find you quick
Same as de trouble come.^[13]

Mumma, I know quite well
You’ lub fe me is ‘trong;
Yet still you don’t a go
Join wid me in a wrong.^[14]

An’ so I won’t beg you
To pay fe^[15] me to-day;
I’ll bear me punishment,^[16]
‘Twill teach me to obey

* * * * * * * * * *

Mumma, you’ Jim get ‘way
An’ come back home^[17] to you,
An’ ask^[18] you to forgive
Him all o’ whe’ him do.^[19]

I want you to feget
Dat I disgrace de name,
An’ cause de ole fam’ly^[20]
To look ‘pon me wid shame.

You come an’ beg de judge
Before dem call fe me,^[21]
An’ walk by de back gate,
T’inkin’ I wouldn’ see.

But ‘fore him let me go,
Him lectur’ me, mumma,
Tellin’ me how I mus’
Try no fe bruk de law.^[22]

Mumma, I feel it, but
No eye-water caan’ drop:
Yet I wish dat it could,
For me breat’ partly ‘top.^[23]

So, mumma, I come back
Again to be your boy,
An’ ever as before
To fill you’ heart wid joy.

NOTE BY THE AUTHOR. —On Friday I went to Court on duty for the third time since my enlistment. I happened to escort a prisoner, a stalwart young fellow, and as I was putting on the handcuff, which was rather small, it pinched him badly, making a raw wound. And yet he was so patient, saying he knew that I could not help it. Although it was accidentally done, I felt so sad and ashamed. The above poem grew out of this incident.