Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1889-06-03
The Tune That Johnny Played.

Placid and gentle Dobbin Gray;
Sure as the stars in the Milky Way.
No tricksy urchin could make her shy;
No startling object alright her eye;
Nor popping crackers, nor bang of gun
That trustworthy equine start to run.
She'd slumber with such tranquil grace
just fronting snorting engines face;
And the and eight of her years were blessed
With all the virtues eer steed possessed.
Now Johnny Tucker, her masters son,
Despised the fame that old Dob had won.
No ambling and rat-tailed nag for him
With grown scarce and with eyeballs dim,
But dashing charger with eyes of flame,
(And Gyp or Rocket should be its name),
With white-starred forehead and four white feet
And never a race course steed more fleet!
One day it CHANGED that the farmer pressed
By spring time duties which give rest,
Babe Johnny ''tackle old Dob and go
Down to the village, mile below,
With eggs and poultry and garden seeds
To change for things that household needs.
Now naughty John as he packed the load
In hidden slyly slowed
An ancient fiddle, and drove away
With huge delight; for but yesterday
Had his father said that "to make Dob spin,
One need but play violin"
Thought the youngster: CHOW L will try and see
What fear in simple tune there'll be
For Dobbn the steady, and if twill not
Arouse the nag from her jig-Jog trot."
So when away on the homeward road,
With well-packed groceries as his load,
Over the dash board the reins he threw
And from its hiding the fiddle drew.
Now tune only did Johnny know
But over the strings he scraped the bow
With grin expectant and mrthful eyes
At thinking of Dobbns great surprise
"Fa, me, sol, do" squeaked the fiddle, ''dor'
And placid old Dobbin, jogging slow
In usual fashion, quick, looked around
With vague unrest at this startling sound
"Ho! no! she IS wakin'," crowed naughty John.
s'I'I bet she II leap if l just keep on.'
Then another and longer, shriler strain
Drove straightway from Dobbin's brain.
And leap she did-with widening eyes
And head flung high in her wild surEr SCI
Then IF she set at frantic pace
As if determined to win the race
And leave behind her those things ofsin
The violinist and violin.
"Hooray' cried Johnny. "Now this is prime
Ha! amt she telling pretty time!
If she could only keep up this shack
She'd win fortune any track.
/ guess if father should see her go
Like this-Slow up now, my Dobbin. Whoa''
The bow he dropped and the lines he caught,
But vain his pulling-for needing naught
Fa ster and faster yet she
The syrup-jug and the ginger can
Went gaiy dancing, sudden crash
Announced a butter jar gone to smash;
The salt bag split and the sugar too
A stream from the syrup-jug wet them through;
The rice and pepper split DER the fish
AS if mixed up for some Chinese dish;
Still on tore Dobbin, and still the lad
Pulled on the reins with what strength he had,
Calling and shouting till voice was hoarse
In frantic effort to stop her course.
Now the farm-yard gate had come in sight,
And Dobbn half turning to the right
Dashed blindly through it. The wheel and fence
Held sudden meeting with consequence
Imagination alone can paint
When Master Johnny both dazed and faint
Arising from remnants of the load
All spilled about DER the dusty road,
Brushed salt and sugar from off his clothes,
Sneezed at the pepper up his nose,
And felt that stream of sy rup thin
Was downward trickng from his chin.
Saw too, alas! in his fathers hand
A stout and threatning birch-tree wand,
He groaned: ''No, 1t cannot be a sin
To play that tune violin;
But guess Old Hundreds too fast one,
BY the double quick that our Dobbin run"