A strain of the strong Saxon thew;
From his eyes shot a glint of a son of the South—
An American type through and through.
A dreamer, daredevil, and care free, they say,
Who lived in the far remote past,—
An unpractical man and careless forsooth;
Inclined as a youth to be fast.
He’d shot up the town and sowed some wild oats,
And once on a time rolled the dice,
But heart like an ox and muscled like steel;