Year: 1876

The boiler, TOO, was red with rust
The boxes full Of dirt and dust;
Indeed twas plain that great repair
Was needed, here and every where.
think, says Sam, I'll change the hands
And bring new men from Western lands,
And see if they can't run the train
Without this heavy tax and strain
Upon the farmland make things go
A little slicker here below.
For plainly can see the storm
Is brewing if there's no reform.
Old Sitting Bull was sitting by
And saw the dander i'm his eye
And feared what Sam might rashly do
Unless the grit was put right through.
But to amuse him if he could
And get him in a melting mood,
He said he knew just such man
As would perform, as well as plan
Both for the mill and engine too,
And make them each rs good as new.
He could do this at half the cost
With the old hands, and nOught be lost,
Reforms not needed, but repair
Is only wanted here and there.
First let me try wheel or two
And see what through him can do;
I'll pay the cost if should fail
Come quaT the cup of nappy ale;
know tis this you only want,
As am told by General Grams
Sam shook his head, as much's to say
do not like the smell Of Hay,
Reform s the word and not repair,
III bet you'll find this everywhere
Says Sitting Bull, I'll take your bet,
One thousand crowns on India state;
The election soon will be at hand
And we can see how things will stand;
I'll find a man, as we'll as horse,
To ride the race across this course,
And put them 'gainst your dapple gray
Which does not like the smell of Hay,
AS flies the crow from line to line
Where Ohio and India jine,
And have them ready for the start,
'Tis done, says Sam, with all my heart.
October came, both raw and cold,
The leaves were turning red and gold,
When just about the brink of day
Sam trotted out his dapple gray;
Broad was his chest, his fianks were clean,
And clear of sprains his limbs were seen;
He paved the ground, like threShing fails,
With hoofs as hard as penny nails;
His neck was arching like bow,
And white his name as drifted snow;
And high he carried tail and head,
As one that had been nobly fed;
His rider-wen not like the horse,
But one that well might ride the course;
He knew each foot of ground-all DER
AS country boys, the school house door,
He knew each road and bridge and stream,
And well could handle horse or team;
His suit cannot say was new,
And here and there a dash of blue
Such as was used in old Kentuck
Where such as Boone would run muck;
But then each one could plainly feel
He was all grit from head to heel.
Old Sit soon came, with prancing steed,
A coal black colt, Of Arab breed:
Sharp was his ears, with nostrils wide,
And swift his pace as flowing tide;
He scanned the crowd with fearless eye,
From angle of the Northern sky,
As much s to say, who follows me
VIII need both eyes and specs to see;
His rider, once knew him welis
Have met him at the Grand Hotel,
He looked as if he lived in clover,
And was a gentleman all over;
His suit was of the Quaker gray,
Had been at court In Vienna,
In fact was well known DER the land,
And well could keep his horse in hands
Lightly he leaped in saddle seat,
And firmly sat his coal black steed-
At tap of drum, away they went,
Like bolt from bow, or arrow bent,
Like lightning, Richmond soon was past,
The bridge was won, and on they dashd;
Men, teams and wagons cleared the way
With many a cheer and loud huzZa;
Old Centreville next came in sight,
A town which Julian ruled of right:
On, on they speed with right good will
Unto the foot of JacksOn's hill,
When both at once drew bride rein,
Somewhat to get their breath again,
For they had rode at break-neck pace
More like a fast two-forty race.
The hill was climbed, then on they sped,
The gray was by the black horse led,
Till Germantown came full in view,
Then with whoop and wild halloo,
Blue Jeans gave spur and cleared the track
Like meteor, from the gallant black;
Cambridge was pass'd, and Dublin town,



Then Louisville came, and Knightstowl


cheered,


The riders as they each appeared;
Sometimes the Black, sometimes the Gray,
Was found to head, and lead the way.
Thus did they ride IN gallant style
Until they reached the fortieth mile,
A mile which well do remember
As having rode one cold December,
When life was young and hope was bright,
And care sat on my shoulders light;
But they who rode with me are low,
For this was thirty years ago;


What were their their thoughts, cannc


tell


They rode so fast, 10 firm and well,
No one seemed tired, each held his own,
Thus neck and neck to Greenfield town,
A place where G-g nightly prays,
For Old Blue Jeans and all his ways;
Blue, here would stay to shake Dawes hant
~ NJ n a -