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Eugene Field - Casey`s Table D`Hote
Work rating: Low

Oh, them days on Red Hoss Mountain, when the skies wuz fair `nd blue,
When the money flowed like likker, `nd the  folks wuz brave `nd true!
When the nights wuz crisp `nd balmy, `nd  the camp wuz all astir,
With the joints all throwed wide open `nd no sheriff to demur!
Oh, them times on Red Hoss Mountain in the Rockies fur away,--
There`s no sich place nor times like them as I kin find to-day!
What though the camp _hez_ busted? I seem to see it still
A-lyin`, like it loved it, on that big `nd warty hill;
And I feel a sort of yearnin` `nd a chokin` in my throat
When I think of Red Hoss Mountain `nd of Casey`s tabble dote!

Wal, yes; it`s true I struck it rich, but that don`t cut a show
When one is old `nd feeble `nd it`s nigh his time to go;
The money that he`s got in bonds or carries to invest
Don`t figger with a codger who has lived a life out West;
Us old chaps like to set around, away from folks `nd noise,
`Nd think about the sights we seen and things we done when boys;
The which is why _I_ love to set `nd think of them old days
When all us Western fellers got the Colorado craze,--
And _that_ is why I love to set around all day `nd gloat
On thoughts of Red Hoss Mountain `nd of Casey`s tabble dote.

This Casey wuz an Irishman,--you`d know it by his name
And by the facial features appertainin` to the same.
He`d lived in many places `nd had done a thousand things,
From the noble art of actin` to the work of dealin` kings,
But, somehow, hadn`t caught on; so, driftin` with the rest,
He drifted for a fortune to the undeveloped West,
And he come to Red Hoss Mountain when the little camp wuz new,
When the money flowed like likker, `nd the folks wuz brave `nd true;
And, havin` been a stewart on a Mississippi boat,
He opened up a caffy `nd he run a tabble dote.

The bar wuz long `nd rangy, with a mirrer on the shelf,
`Nd a pistol, so that Casey, when required, could help himself;
Down underneath there wuz a row of bottled beer `nd wine,
`Nd a kag of Burbun whiskey of the run of `59;
Upon the walls wuz pictures of hosses `nd of girls,--
Not much on dress, perhaps, but strong on records `nd on curls!
The which had been identified with Casey in the past,--
The hosses `nd the girls, I mean,--and both wuz mighty fast!
But all these fine attractions wuz of precious little note
By the side of what wuz offered at Casey`s tabble dote.

There wuz half-a-dozen tables altogether in the place,
And the tax you had to pay upon your vittles wuz a case;
The boardin`-houses in the camp protested `t wuz a shame
To patronize a robber, which this Casey wuz the same!
They said a case was robbery to tax for ary meal;
But Casey tended strictly to his biz, `nd let `em squeal;
And presently the boardin`-houses all began to bust,
While Casey kept on sawin` wood `nd layin` in the dust;
And oncet a tray`lin` editor from Denver City wrote
A piece back to his paper, puffin` Casey`s tabble dote.

A tabble dote is different from orderin` aller cart:
In _one_ case you git all there is, in _t` other_, only _part_!
And Casey`s tabble dote began in French,--as all begin,--
And Casey`s ended with the same, which is to say, with "vin;"
But in between wuz every kind of reptile, bird, `nd beast,
The same like you can git in high-toned restauraws down east;
`Nd windin` up wuz cake or pie, with coffee demy tass,
Or, sometimes, floatin` Ireland in a soothin` kind of sass
That left a sort of pleasant ticklin` in a feller`s throat,
`Nd made him hanker after more of Casey`s tabble dote.

The very recollection of them puddin`s `nd them pies
Brings a yearnin` to my buzzum `nd the water to my eyes;
`Nd seems like cookin` nowadays ain`t what it used to be
In camp on Red Hoss Mountain in that year of `63;
But, maybe, it is better, `nd, maybe, I`m to blame--
I`d like to be a-livin` in the mountains jest the same--
I`d like to live that life again when skies wuz fair `nd blue,
When things wuz run wide open `nd men wuz brave `nd true;
When brawny arms the flinty ribs of Red Hoss Mountain smote
For wherewithal to pay the price of Casey`s tabble dote.

And you, O cherished brother, a-sleepin` `way out west,
With Red Hoss Mountain huggin` you close to its lovin` breast,--
Oh, do you dream in your last sleep of how we used to do,
Of how we worked our little claims together, me `nd you?
Why, when I saw you last a smile wuz restin` on your face,
Like you wuz glad to sleep forever in that lonely place;
And so you wuz, `nd I `d be, too, if I wuz sleepin` so.
But, bein` how a brother`s love ain`t for the world to know,
Whenever I`ve this heartache `nd this chokin` in my throat,
I lay it all to thinkin` of Casey`s tabble dote.
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