Mining Music
united states mine rescue association
Mine Disasters in the United States

More Mining Poetry by Joel

Mining Poetry by Joel Tankersley

The Rube

When I was a young man,
of strong back and lean.
I set on the road,
like I was a machine.

To the town of Wallace,
of Idaho fame.
Come there to set,
the Silver Valley aflame.

The first stop was on bank street,
I parked my new car.
I landed a stool,
in a very small bar.

The liquor flowed freely,
and into the night.
First evening in Wallace,
and I was wound up real tight.

I had friends all around me,
drinks on some louse.
One so inquired,
"have you seen the cat house?"

I said are you asking?
I was drug to the door.
Come out to the street kid,
come here to-n-too four.

We traveled the block,
san ill repute.
Ah' stopping and shopping,
ah the lack of green loot.

But seeing the elephant,
and drunk on the strand.
In the mouth of Burke canyon,
I passed out so grand.

I woke the next morning,
sick as a hog.
Mangy black hair,
trussed like a frog.

I dunked my fat head,
in some creek that was cold.
Put on clean duds,
in the midst of the road.

then I went looking for work . . .

I rustled the Sunshine,
I rustled the Star
I ask the Galena,
I was not up to par.

I went to the Friday,
and the Cresent shop shack.
They said, "where you from,"
and then "that you ought to go back."

I went into Kellogg,
not feeling too fine.
I looked at the Bunker's,
long hiring line.

I was now desperate,
it was bad where I sat.
I drove all the way up there
and there was no going back.

At the Kellogg tunnel,
Bunker Mine office stood.
I made up some lies
and I made them up good.

I went to the superintendant,
I knocked on his desk.
Said you better not miss me,
because I am the best.

I can mine for two muckers,
and muck for two miners.
I can out work and out think,
any old timer.

You need me right now,
no B.S. or blister.
I'm hiring on,
how bout' it there mister?

The Superintendent, well he hired me,
right on the spot.
No second question,
I worked a sweet slot.

So in twenty four hours,
every mothers desire.
A drunk, a whoremonger,
and a really great liar.

Copyright Joel Tankersley

See more about these products