The Birmingham age-herald., 1902-11-02
Charley Burke.s in town.s

It's treatin iv'ry by he is, an poundin'
 on the bar
 Till iv'ry man he's drinkin' wid must
 shmoke foine cigar;
 An Missus Murphy's little Kate. that's
 comin there for beer
 Can't pay wan cint the bucketfui. the
 whilst the Chairleys herel He's joompin GOT the tops O sthools, the
 both forninst an back He'll lave yez pick the blessed hure, an
 walk the straightest crack! Hes liftin' barrels wid his teeth, and
 singin' Garry Owen" Till all the house he strilxin' hands. sence
 Charley Burke's in town. The road-yaird hands comes dhroppin
 in, an niver goin' back; And there's two freights upon the switch
 the wan on aither track An MT. Gearry, from the shops, he's mad
 enough to swear,
 An durstn't spake a word but grin, the
 whilst that Chairleys therei Oh, Chairleyl Chairleyl Charley Burke!
 ye divil, wid yes ways O. dhrivin all the throubles afr, these
 dark an gloomy days Ohone! that it's meself wid all the griefs
 I have to drown,
 Must lave me pick to resht bit, sence
 Charley Burye's in towni
 Before we turn back now" said the smiling major, as I stood lingering over the indef1nable humor of the last refrain, before we turn back I want to show you something eminently characteristic. Come this way a half dozen steps"
 As he spoke looked up to first ob- serve that we had paused before handsome square brick resi- dence' eentering a beautiful smooth lawn, it's emerald only filtered with the light gold of the earliest autumn leaves. On either side of the trim walk that led up from the gate to the carved stone ballusters of the broad piazza, with it's empty chairs, were graceful vases, froth- ing over with late blossoms, and wreath ed with laurel-looking vines; and, luxur- iantly lacing the border of the pave that turned the further corner of the house, blue, white and crimson, pink and violet, went fading in perspective as my gaze followed the gesture of the Majors
 Here, come a little further Now do you see that man there?s
 Yes, I could make out figure in the deepening dusk-the figure of a man on the back stoop-a tired looking man, in his shirt-sleeves. who sat upon a low chair-no not chair-an empty box He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and the hands dropped limp. He was smoking, too I could barely see his pipe, and but for the odor of very strong tobacco, would not have known he had a pipe. Why does the master of the house permit his servants to so desecrate this beautiful home? I thought
 Well, shall we go now?" said the Ma jor. turned silently and we retraced our steps. I think neither of us spoke for the distance of a square.
 Guess you didn't know the man there on the back portch?' said the Major No why?' I asked dubiously
 ''I hardly thought you would and be- sides the poor fellows tired, and it was best not to disturb him." said the Ma jor.
 Why; who was it-some one I know?' 'It was Tommy
 "Oh," said I, inquiringly. ''he's em- ployed there in some capacity?"
 ''Yes as master of the house."
 You don't mean it :"
 ''I certainly do. He owns it. and made every cent of the money that paid for itl'' said the Major proudly. That's why I wanted you particularly to note that eminent characteristic I spoke of. Tommy could just as well be sitting, with a fine cigar, on the front piazza in an easy chair, as with his dhudeen. on the back porch, on an empty box, where every night you'll find him. Its the un- conscious dropping back into the old ways of his father and his fathers fath- er and his fathers fathers father. In brief he sits there the poor lorn symbol of the long oppression of his race"