Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-08-02
THE BROOMSTICK TRAIN.


DR.. Holmes Poem ON the Electric Car In
August's Atlantic Monthly.
Look outi Look out. boysI Clear the tracki
| The witches are here! They've all come backi
| They hanged them high, but they wouldn't lie
still,
For cats and witches are hard to kill;
They buried them deep. but they wouldn't
die
Books say they did, but they lie! they liei
"A couple of hundred years or 30
They had knocked about in the world below,
When an Essex deacon dropped in to call,
And homesick feeling seized them all;
For he came from place they knew fall well,
And many tale he had to tell.
They longed to visit the haunts of men,
10 see the old dwellings they knew again,
And ride on their broomsticks all around
Their wide domain of unhallowed ground
In Essex county there's many a roof
Well known to him of the cloven hoof;
The small square windows are full in view
Which the midnight hags went sailing through,
On their well-trained broomsticks mounted
high,
Seen like shadows against the sky;
Crossing the track OF owls and bats,
Hugging before them their coal-black cats.
Well did they know, those gray old wives.
The sights we see in our daily drives;
Simmer of lake and shine of sea.
Bro oWn's bare hill with its lonely tree,
Ut wasn't then as we see it now.
With one scant scalp-lock to shade its brow);
Dusky hooks in the Essex woods.
Dark, dim, Dante-like solitudes,
Where the tree-toad watches the sinuous snake
Glide through his forests of fern and brake;
Ipswich river; its old stone bridge;
Far off Andover's Indian Ridge,
And many a scene where history tells
Some shadow of bygone terror dwells-
Of "Norman's Woe" with its tale of dread,
of the Screeching Woman of Marblehead,
(The fearful story that turns men pale:
Don't Did me tell Tiny speech would fail).
For that "couple of hundred years or so''
There had been no peace in the world below;
The witches still grumbling. ut isn't fair;
Come, give us a taste of the upper airi
we've had enough of your sulphur springs
And the evil odor that round them cl1ngs;
We long for drink that Is cool and nice
GREAT buckets OF water with Wenham ice;
We've served you well on earth, you know;
You're good old fellow-come, let US goP'
don't feel sure of his being good,
But he happened to be in pleasant mood
AS nends with their skins full somstimes are
(He'd been drinking with ''roughs" at Boston
bar.)
So what does he do but up and shout
To a graybeard turnkey, LET 'em outr'
10 mind his orders was all he knew;
me gates swung open and out they flew.
where are our broomsIicksr the beldams
cried.
Here are your broomsticks," an imp replied.
They've been in-the place you know-so long.
They smell OF birthstone uncommon strong;
But they've gained by being left alone
Just look and you'll see how tall they've
grown"
"And where is my cat?" vixen squaIled.
"Yes, where are our cats?" the witches bawled,
And began to call them all by name.
As fast as they called the cats. they came:
There was bob-tailed Tommy and long-tailed
And wall-eyed Jacky and green.eyed Jim.
And splay-foot Benny and slim-legged Beau,
And Skinny and Squally, and Jerry and Joe,
And many another that came at call
1T would take too long to count them all.
All backbone could hardly tell which was
which,
And she knew hers as hers knew her
Ah, didn't they curl their tails and purri
No sooner the withered hags were free
Than out they swarmed for a midnight spree;
| couldn't tell all they did in rhymes,
But the Essex people had dreadful times.
The Swampscott fishermen still relate
How strange sea monster stole their bait;
How their nets were tangled in loops and
knots,
And they found dead crabs in their lobster pots.
Poor Danvers grieved for her blasted crops,
And Wilmington mourned over mildewed hops.
A blight played havoc with Beverly beans
It was all the work of those hateful gueansl
Where the witches stopped in their midnight
rides,
And there rose strange rumors and vague
alarms
Mid the peaceful dwellers at Beverly Farms.
Now when the Boss of the beldams found
That without his leave they were ramping |
round,
He called-they could hear him twenty miles, |
From Chelsea beach to the Misery Isles; |
The deafest old granny knew his tone |
Without the trick of the telephone.
Come here, you witches! Come herep' says |
he
"At your games of old without asking mel
Pll give you little job to do
That will keep you stirring. you goddess crew r |
They came, of course at their masters call
The witches, the broOmstlcks. the cats and all; |
He led the hags to a railway train
The horses we're trying to drag in vain.
Now. then" says he, you've had your fun,
And here are the cars you've got to run.
The driver may just unhltch his team,
We don't want horses, we don't want steam;
You may keep your old black cats to hug.
But the loaded train you've got TO lug"
Since then on many car you'll see
A broomstick plain as plain can be;
On every stick there's witch astride,
The string you see to her leg is tied.
She will do mischief if she can,
But the string is held by careful man,
And when ever the evil-minded witch
Would cut some caper he gives twitch.
As for the hag you can't see her,
But hark! you can hear her black cats purr,
And now and then, as the train goes by
You may catch gleam from her wicked eye.
Often you've looked a rushing train,
But Just what moved it is not SO PLAIN.
1t couldn't be those wires above;
For they could neither pull nor shove;
Where was the motor that made it go
You couldn't guess, but now You know.
Remember my rhymes wheE you ride again
On the rattling rail by the bI oomstick train!