| AFTER I got religion and steadied down | |
| They gave me a job in the canning works, | |
| And every morning I had to fill | |
| The tank in the yard with gasoline, | |
| That fed the blow-fires in the sheds | 5 |
| To heat the soldering irons. | |
| And I mounted a rickety ladder to do it, | |
| Carrying buckets full of the stuff. | |
| One morning, as I stood there pouring, | |
| The air grew still and seemed to heave, | 10 |
| And I shot up as the tank exploded, | |
| And down I came with both legs broken, | |
| And my eyes burned crisp as a couple of eggs. | |
| For someone left a blow-fire going, | |
| And something sucked the flame in the tank. | 15 |
| The Circuit Judge said whoever did it | |
| Was a fellow-servant of mine, and so | |
| Old Rhodes’ son didn’t have to pay me. | |
| And I sat on the witness stand as blind | |
| As Jack the Fiddler, saying over and over, | 20 |
| “I didn’t know him at all.” | |
