People's voice. [volume] (Wellington, Sumner County, Kansas) 1890-1917, 1895-09-12
ANDREW ANDERSON.
BY W. X. SAVAGE.


And yet it seems but yesterday
As over the prairies from the north h
came
Like stately knight of olden time,
Unknown and without a name.
His manly form and face so fair,
With coal black hair and graceful meiI
Some knight of old could not compare
With him whose praises now sing.
The prairies were ablOOm with flowers;
With April showers the earth was glad,
And yet all-slowly passed the hours,
For time goes slow when heart is sad.
When heart is sad and body weary;
When hope grows faint and brain doe
reel
For walking is no longer pleasure
To him who has a stone-bruised heel.
The bundle that was lightly thrown
Upon the back when sky was red
With streakings of the coming dawn
Now felt as though was made of lead.
The sun its daily work had done
And stars and moon their task begun
When dimly to the south was seen
The twinkling lights of Wellington.
The joy the stOrm-tOssed sailors feel
When port and harbOrs drawing nigh.
The bliss the desert traveller knows
When laying down about to die,
Beholds a shady palm tree stand
And rushing onward nears at last
And finds amid the burning sand
An oasis that is blest.
With everything that satisfies,
With everything that gratifes,
With water bubbling from the spring,
With fruit and flowers and everything,
Oh, joy! to plunge yourself within
The cooling waters of that spring
And feel that bliss that none can tell,
Unless one should return from hell,
Such joy to Andrews heart gives cheer
When drawing nigh to Yetter's light.
He plunges in and shuts the door
Upon the darkness Of the night.
Throws down his bundle on the floor
And quickly to the bar draws near,
And browns the sorrows of that day
With mug On mug Of foaming beer.
The mug was stone of extra size
With pewter top and cooling lip.
Iwell remember them myself
And often did its nectar sip.
On many tOrrid August day
When hot winds blew from southern climec
I've raised one from its icy bath,
And looked into it many times.
did not then know it was wrong
1t seemed the proper thing to doit.
Our wells with alkali were strong
And now it Is too late too rue it.
But looking in bright visions saw
Of golden days in years to come.
With fertile fields and husbsndmen
Chanting the harvest home.
And so no censure should be cast
Against one In those days gone BY
Who following out our customs then
Took something when he was dry.
For custom Is mighty Law
AsOld as Rome It's said by some,
At least it is saying old
In Rome do as Romans love.
Another custom of those times
That now is censured by the law,
And punished as the worst of crimes,
Is that nice little game called draw.
This game TO Andrew was so dear,
For all great men have some weak places
And now his heart is full of cheer
There's Jack pot, he holds four aces.
When milking time is drawing near
And clover blossoms scent the air
To rural ears It's sweet to hear
The low of herds from pastures far
To see the COWS come down the lane
To meet the girl you love the best.
Who would not be boy again,
when sun is sinking in the west?
With some fair maid at milking time
When summer breezes softly blow.
bow wildly is brought to mind,
The happy days of long ago.
It's milking time with Andrew now
The jack pot grows, the bets are high.
A treasure dear is such COW
Worth milking till she's dry.
Now all is up, call is made
And see the look of sorrow and surprise.
As Andrew rakes the Doodle in
Before their longing eyes.