Partingtonian patchwork Blifkins the martyr : the domestic trials of a model husband. The modern syntax : Dr. Spooner's experiences in search of the delectable. Partington papers : strippings of the warm milk of human kindness. New and old dips from an unambitious inkstand. Humorous, eccentric, rhythmical |
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SAN GAREE'S RIDE. |
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302
SAN GAREE'S RIDE.
I'll tell you a tale, if you'll list to me,
Of the ride that was rid by San Garee,
On a night in the K. N. Fifty-Five:
There are many witnesses alive
Who were on the spot the thing to see.
Of the ride that was rid by San Garee,
On a night in the K. N. Fifty-Five:
There are many witnesses alive
Who were on the spot the thing to see.
He said to his friend, “The constable's come,
But, as you'll see, I'm up to trap;
They think they've wholly stopped our rum
By cutting off the tavern's tap.
I'll show 'em a trick worth two of that,
For I'll away to the opposite flat,
Ready to ride to Medford town
And bring the real ‘critter’ down,
In spite of the tyrannous Maine law's frown!”
But, as you'll see, I'm up to trap;
They think they've wholly stopped our rum
By cutting off the tavern's tap.
I'll show 'em a trick worth two of that,
For I'll away to the opposite flat,
Ready to ride to Medford town
And bring the real ‘critter’ down,
In spite of the tyrannous Maine law's frown!”
Then he said good night, and a jug he took,
And crossed the bridge that spanned the brook,
Just as the moon, half over the bay,
Shed its beam where a hay-cart waiting lay—
A phantom cart, with slats upright,
Through which the moon shone still and bright,
And a huge black hulk of a shadow was cast
On the fence, as San Garee hurried past.
[OMITTED]
A clatter of hoofs rang through the town,
Lickity-cut, at a terrible pace,
And the oldest stagers in the place
Vowed that such riding they'd never known:
That was all! and yet from his mission that night,
A dozen men ere morning were tight!
[OMITTED]
It was ten by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He smelt the fragrance of the dock,
And heard the hum of the 'stillery dam,
And the sound of a distant front door slam,
As folks to their naps were settling down;
And he was fast asleep in his bed,
The one on whom San Garee did call,
Who filled his jug with the fluid red,
And didn't mind the law at all.
And crossed the bridge that spanned the brook,
Just as the moon, half over the bay,
Shed its beam where a hay-cart waiting lay—
A phantom cart, with slats upright,
Through which the moon shone still and bright,
And a huge black hulk of a shadow was cast
On the fence, as San Garee hurried past.
[OMITTED]
A clatter of hoofs rang through the town,
Lickity-cut, at a terrible pace,
And the oldest stagers in the place
Vowed that such riding they'd never known:
That was all! and yet from his mission that night,
A dozen men ere morning were tight!
[OMITTED]
303
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He smelt the fragrance of the dock,
And heard the hum of the 'stillery dam,
And the sound of a distant front door slam,
As folks to their naps were settling down;
And he was fast asleep in his bed,
The one on whom San Garee did call,
Who filled his jug with the fluid red,
And didn't mind the law at all.
The rest is soon told. He came as he went,
With no policeman on the scent,
His prize securely lashed to his side,
That ere he started he twice had tried,
Dashing along through road and lane
With eager heart and urgent rein;
And under the trees, by the river's brink,
Stopping only to take a drink!
With no policeman on the scent,
His prize securely lashed to his side,
That ere he started he twice had tried,
Dashing along through road and lane
With eager heart and urgent rein;
And under the trees, by the river's brink,
Stopping only to take a drink!
So on that night rode San Garee,
And so through the night his horses' heels
To wakeful ears made noisy appeals,—
Appeals that mocked curiosity;—
A clatter in darkness that passed by the door,
As homeward his trophy the night rider bore!
Now, 'mong the rummest things that are past,
Recounted often in circles fast,
In hours of sport, and mirth, and fun,
They tell the story with shouts of glee,
How the Maine-law people were done
By the midnight ride of San Garee.
And so through the night his horses' heels
To wakeful ears made noisy appeals,—
Appeals that mocked curiosity;—
A clatter in darkness that passed by the door,
As homeward his trophy the night rider bore!
Now, 'mong the rummest things that are past,
Recounted often in circles fast,
In hours of sport, and mirth, and fun,
They tell the story with shouts of glee,
How the Maine-law people were done
By the midnight ride of San Garee.
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