Swazy folks and others; poems . inin in; The childer cry for him, an wimin an min,An the place aint the sameSince the Black Hunter came An tuk off the shmile of ould Barney McGinn. 66 SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS The Old Fishing Hole. You sing the song of the meadows who will,The songs of the sumach and daisies and clover. Songs of the pathway, the highroad and hillWhere clouds of the summer drift lazily over— Ill sing a song of the old fishin holeAnd a wishing string on the end of a pole. Deep in the heart of the woodland it liesAt the end of the pathway the boys have madeto it,Still as the woods o
Swazy folks and others; poems . inin in; The childer cry for him, an wimin an min,An the place aint the sameSince the Black Hunter came An tuk off the shmile of ould Barney McGinn. 66 SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS The Old Fishing Hole. You sing the song of the meadows who will,The songs of the sumach and daisies and clover. Songs of the pathway, the highroad and hillWhere clouds of the summer drift lazily over— Ill sing a song of the old fishin holeAnd a wishing string on the end of a pole. Deep in the heart of the woodland it liesAt the end of the pathway the boys have madeto it,Still as the woods or the overhead skiesAnd deep as the hearts of the youngsters whoknew , its a throne for a towheaded kingWith a scepter of elder and bobber and string! Place where we wandered in Youths rosy dawn Unmindful of life and its sweet necromancies—Spot where in manhood weve stolen and goneAnd fished with indifference and dwelt with ourfancies,Ever alert that our line should be tautTo catch the old settler that never The or Fishin Hole SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS 69 You sing the songs of the meadows who songs of the sumach, the daisies and clover, Ill sing the song of the fishin hole stillWith old recollections all hovering over— Throne in the woods where we loitered in stateAnd learned to be patient and hopeful—and wait. 70 SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS The Tale the Stage Driver Told. VTITHY, he was as straight as a Hmb, sir, Slim wus;His name? Well we called him Slim, sir. Well—cuzHe never had no name around hare,As frequently happens to men fair an square—We never ast questions of such, do y see ?The same s apt to happen t you or to rne. Do y savvy ? Twas thus ran the tale of the driver, as, huggingthe road by the canyon, he pointed to a grave onthe hillside, the goal of some luckless wandrer— An the gal who cum with him was fair, sir, At leastAs any, I reckin, back thare, sir. Back EastWhere you hail, I take it—with a face like a rose;She purty nigh wor
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