| I think, of all the things at school |
| A boy has got to do, |
| That studyin' hist'ry, as a rule, |
| Is worst of all, don't you? |
| Of dates there are an awful sight, |
| An' though I study day an' night, |
| There's only one I've got just right— |
| That's fourteen ninety-two. |
| |
| Columbus crossed the Delaware |
| In fourteen ninety-two; |
| We whipped the British, fair an' square, |
| In fourteen ninety-two. |
| At Concord an' at Lexington. |
| We kept the redcoats on the run, |
| While the band played Johnny Get Your Gun, |
| In fourteen ninety-two. |
| |
| Pat Henry, with his dyin' breath— |
| In fourteen ninety-two— |
| Said, "Gimme liberty or death!" |
| In fourteen ninety-two. |
| An' Barbara Frietchie, so 'tis said, |
| Cried, "Shoot if you must this old, gray head, |
| But I'd rather 'twould be your own instead!" |
| In fourteen ninety-two. |
| |
| The Pilgrims came to Plymouth Rock |
| In fourteen ninety-two, |
| An' the Indians standin' on the dock |
| Asked, "What are you goin' to do?" |
| An' they said, "We seek your harbor drear |
| That our children's children's children dear |
| May boast that their forefathers landed here |
| In fourteen ninety-two." |
| |
| Miss Pocahontas saved the life— |
| In fourteen ninety-two— |
| Of John Smith, an' became his wife |
| In fourteen ninety-two. |
| An' the Smith tribe started then an' there, |
| An' now there are John Smiths ev'rywhere, |
| But they didn't have any Smiths to spare |
| In fourteen ninety-two. |
| |
| Kentucky was settled by Daniel Boone |
| In fourteen ninety-two, |
| An' I think the cow jumped over the moon |
| In fourteen ninety-two. |
| Ben Franklin flew his kite so high |
| He drew the lightnin' from the sky, |
| An' Washington couldn't tell a lie, |
| In fourteen ninety-two. |
| |
| Nixon Waterman. |
| Singing through the forests, rattling over ridges, |
| Shooting under arches, rumbling over bridges, |
| Whizzing through the mountains, buzzing o'er the vale,— |
| Bless me! this is pleasant, riding on the rail! |
| |
| Men of different stations in the eye of Fame, |
| Here are very quickly coming to the same; |
| High and lowly people, birds of every feather, |
| On a common level, traveling together! |
| |
| Gentlemen in shorts, blooming very tall; |
| Gentlemen at large, talking very small; |
| Gentlemen in tights, with a loosish mien; |
| Gentlemen in gray, looking very green! |
| |
| Gentlemen quite old, asking for the news; |
| Gentlemen in black, with a fit of blues; |
| Gentlemen in claret, sober as a vicar; |
| Gentlemen in tweed, dreadfully in liquor! |
| |
| Stranger on the right looking very sunny, |
| Obviously reading something very funny. |
| Now the smiles are thicker—wonder what they mean? |
| Faith, he's got the Knickerbocker Magazine! |
| |
| Stranger on the left, closing up his peepers; |
| Now he snores again, like the Seven Sleepers; |
| At his feet a volume gives the explanation, |
| How the man grew stupid from "association"! |
| |
| Ancient maiden lady anxiously remarks |
| That there must be peril 'mong so many sparks; |
| Roguish-looking fellow, turning to the stranger, |
| Says 'tis his opinion she is out of danger! |
| |
| Woman with her baby, sitting vis a vis; |
| Baby keeps a-squalling, woman looks at me; |
| Asks about the distance—says 'tis tiresome talking, |
| Noises of the cars are so very shocking! |
| |
| Market woman, careful of the precious casket, |
| Knowing eggs are eggs, tightly holds her basket; |
| Feeling that a smash, if it came, would surely |
| Send her eggs to pot rather prematurely. |
| |
| Singing through the forests, rattling over ridges, |
| Shooting under arches, rumbling over bridges, |
| Whizzing through the mountains, buzzing o'er the vale,— |
| Bless me! this is pleasant, riding on the rail! |
| |
| J.G. Saxe. |
| Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! |
| Sail on, O Union, strong and great! |
| Humanity with all its fears, |
| With all the hopes of future years, |
| Is hanging breathless on thy fate! |
| We know what Master laid thy keel, |
| What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, |
| Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, |
| What anvils rang, what hammers beat, |
| In what a forge and what a heat |
| Were shaped the anchors of thy hope! |
| Fear not each sudden sound and shock, |
| 'Tis of the wave and not the rock; |
| 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, |
| And not a rent made by the gale! |
| In spite of rock and tempest's roar, |
| In spite of false lights on the shore, |
| Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! |
| Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, |
| Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, |
| Our faith truiumphant o'er our fears, |
| Are all with thee,—are all with thee! |
| |
| H.W. Longfellow. |