aass_gSL/6S^ 
 Book .i^^-S* 
 
 Copyright N"_ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
Shandy Maguire 
 
^»^ 
 
 [I* Random Rhymes ||;| 
 '■^i and Rhapsodies I*.! 
 of the Rail |^il 
 
 •^! 
 
 
<f[ 
 
 ?3>^> 
 
 UBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 A^.H 8 1907 
 
 -r, Copyright Entry ^ 
 cuss A XXC, No. 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1907, 
 
 By PATRICK FENNELL, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 

 > 
 
 ?} 
 
 To the men of the rail, who can best understand them, these 
 lines are inscribed by one of their number. 
 
 The Author. 
 
"I have eaten your bread and salt, 
 
 I have drunk your water and winj, 
 The deaths ye died I have watched beside, 
 ,And the lives ye led were mine. 
 
 I have written the tale of our life 
 For a sheltered people's mirth, 
 
 In jesting guise, but yc are wise, 
 And ye know what the jest is worth." 
 
 — Kipling. 
 
IN THE GLOAMING LONG AGO. 
 
 Sweet, come sit thee here beside me, 
 
 Till I sing of love and duty," 
 Till I clasp my arms around thee. 
 
 And I press thee to my breast ; 
 And I'll gaze in admiration 
 
 On thy graceful queenly beauty, 
 And enjoy thy peerless presence. 
 
 As against my heart thou'lt rest. 
 
 Oh, the joy of thy embraces 
 
 Sends my bosom palpitating, 
 And thy witcheries love-laden 
 
 Thrill me like a magic wand. 
 And thy breath, as sweet as zephyrs 
 
 Over clover fields gyrating, 
 Is enjoyed with greedy pleasure, 
 
 By my heart intensely fond. 
 
 Many Junes ablaze with roses 
 
 Have delighted us and vanished, 
 Since our love was fondly 'trothed, 
 
 In the halcyon long ago; 
 Many meetings had their partings. 
 
 And I from thy side was banished, 
 In the gloom of desolation. 
 
 With my bosom full of woe. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 But again in queenly grandeur 
 
 Thou wouldst greet me with thy kisses, 
 And all love-sick sobs would leave me, 
 
 As thy touch would soothe my brow ; 
 And a happy transformation 
 
 I'd enjoy amid new blisses. 
 As thy smiles would beam upon me, 
 
 Like the way they're doing now. 
 
 Fate is kind and also cruel, 
 
 It was either joyful greeting 
 Or a tearful salutation 
 
 Which she dealt us from her store ; 
 Full of bitter sweets our bosoms 
 
 At each parting and each meeting, 
 But the hours, even sad ones, 
 
 I could gladly live them o'er. 
 
 How I loved thy raven tresses. 
 
 And thy modest drooping glances. 
 And thy smiles of virgin coyness. 
 
 In the gloaming when we'd meet. 
 And thy timidnes's reproving 
 
 All my vigorous advances. 
 When I'd wind my arms around thee, 
 
 And salute thy lips, my sweet ! 
 
 Now the silver hairs are straying 
 
 In amid those raven tresses, 
 And I, too, display time's furrows 
 
 Which are deeply on my brow ; 
 
SIIANDV MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 But thy lips retain their sweetness, 
 And I thrill with thy caresses. 
 
 And till death, dear Sweet, I'll love thee 
 In the way I love thee now. 
 
 Out beyond the starry portals, 
 
 And our finite field of vision, 
 In a land of joy supernal, 
 
 We may meet when life is o'er. 
 Where the pure of heart are dowered 
 
 With rich gifts of love elysian. 
 In that realm of endless glory. 
 
 Where all parting is no more. 
 
 AN ENGINEMAN'S JOY. 
 
 I love a flight, on a summer's night 
 
 O'er the prairie's wide domain. 
 On my noble steed, in her matchless speed. 
 
 As she wheels the flying train. 
 How her sharp exhaust keeps the cinders tossed 
 
 Up high in the balmy air. 
 And the track ahead, on its rocky bed. 
 
 Is swept by the head-light's glare. 
 
 There's thrilling sound, in the wheels' swift 
 bound. 
 
 Which no sluggard's heart can feel. 
 As they spin and roll, at my hand's control. 
 
 O'er the ponderous rails of steel. 
 
8 SHANDY ma(;uire"s poems 
 
 By each mile-post on, ere a minute's gone, 
 
 Like a meteor's flash we run, 
 Never slacking pace till we end our race 
 
 Many miles toward the setting sun. 
 
 When my trip is o'er through my cottage door 
 
 Bound my boys and girls in glee. 
 With their joyous cries, full of glad surprise, 
 
 And their kisses sweet for me. 
 Oh ! I gain new life as my bonnie wife 
 
 With her cheerful smiles I greet, 
 And I thank the Lord for the blessings stored 
 
 In the cot full of joy so sweet. 
 
 MUSING ON THE PAST. 
 
 Oft mid memories Lm living of the dear old long 
 ago 
 When I first began my toiling on the rail. 
 When I didn't mind the hardships or the cuts 
 when full of snow. 
 Or the razor-edge of frost flung by the gale; 
 For my youthful pulses bounded with a stimula- 
 ting tide, 
 And the glories of young manhood filled me 
 there, 
 And the world was all before me with its portals 
 open wide, 
 And the skies that spread above me mostly fair. 
 
STIANDY MAC.UIRES TOEMS y 
 
 Then the cabs were small, and happy were the 
 men that filled them too, 
 It was song and ceaseless laughter all the time, 
 For a pair of true companions were each loyal 
 engine crew, 
 And dissension, it was looked upon as crime. 
 Then we always helped each other in our 
 moments of distress. 
 For there was no line dividing left and right, 
 And our engines we adored them, oft we gave 
 them fond caress, 
 As we watched the crank pins tossing with 
 delight. 
 
 How we'd speed into the station, and how grand 
 Fd toll the bell. 
 To salute with mystic sound a fair one's ear ! 
 And when in the crowd Fd spy her, how my 
 youthful heart would swell 
 As Fd gaze with loving eyes upon my dear! 
 Those old evenings in the gloaming, with the 
 
 charmer at my side. 
 How Fd boast of spurts of speed made on our 
 
 trips, 
 Till she'd cuddle to me closer, with mv arms 
 opened wide, 
 There to clasp her with my mustache on her 
 lips. 
 
10 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 But a change has come most woeful since those 
 days of which I sing, 
 Now 'tis decapods, and moguls and the like, 
 And the harmony we felt then many times has 
 taken wing 
 Save upon some rare occasions on the pike. 
 And besides on "Mother Hubbards" we are many 
 feet apart, 
 Not a chance to sing duets or beg a chew. 
 There is nothing now but worry from the 
 moment that we start. 
 Till the mountain made of iron gets us through. 
 
 Oh I know that time is changing all the current 
 of our lives. 
 And I know there's no use sighing for the past, 
 For the second growth surrounds us and our 
 mid-aged portly wives 
 Are a certain sign that youthful days are past. 
 And how gladly I'd recall them if again they'd 
 backward come, 
 But alas, they're gone forever ; by and bye 
 We may live in youth eternal in the promised 
 happy home 
 That was built for faithful toilers, o'er the skv. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 11 
 
 THE UNSUNG HEROES. 
 
 Let men sing of the heroes who're falHng 
 
 In front of a conquering- foe ; 
 They're bred to their soldierly calling, 
 
 And charge with their bosoms aglow ; 
 But don't forget laurels to others, 
 
 Whose hearts in dread moments ne'er fail, 
 My noble professional brothers. 
 
 The heroes, unsung, of the rail. 
 
 No drum-beat or trumpet inspires them, 
 
 When life is the price that they pay ; 
 'Tis duty courageously fires them, 
 
 The martyrs we hear of each day. 
 No marble proclaims the devotion 
 
 Of men in the cabs or on cars 
 To duty, devoid of emotion. 
 
 As up go their souls o'er the stars. 
 
 When wreaths are bestowed on immortals. 
 
 To crown every heroic name 
 That passed through eternity's portals. 
 
 To rest in the temple of fame. 
 Remember all those who stand ready 
 
 To give up their sweet lives, resigned, 
 Awaiting death calmly and steady, 
 
 To save those from danger behind. 
 
12 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 BILLY KANE'S DELIVERANCE FROM DEATH. 
 
 There's old Dr. Sawbone's carriage going up to 
 Billy Kane's. 
 
 He has skill, that's why we got him ; Nature gave 
 him lots of brains. 
 
 Modest Billy proved a hero. If he'll live, we can- 
 not saj, 
 
 And some eyes are red from weeping for poor 
 Billy Kane today. 
 
 He is all a man could ask for as a friend and 
 Brother dear ; 
 
 One who throttle-barred the Thirty as a model 
 engineer. 
 
 Steady, sober, honest, loving, never given to com- 
 plain. 
 
 And the height of his ambition was on time to 
 have his train. 
 
 It is thirty years and over since he first came on 
 
 the line ; 
 He was noted as a fireman for the way his brass 
 
 would shine. 
 To a shifter, to the local, to a through freight, to 
 
 the stock 
 He was lifted, and he ran them just as steady as 
 
 a rock. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 13 
 
 Very soon he reached the zenith of an engine- 
 man's dehght. 
 
 Tossing crank pins, hauHng coaches, on a day run 
 from a night ; 
 
 And day in and out his signal gave us pleasure, 
 for we knew 
 
 That it meant he home was rolling safel}^ with 
 his cars and crew. 
 
 T'other evening rose the thunder and the light- 
 ning and the wind, 
 
 And the belching rain, it followed, human eyes 
 to sorely blind. 
 
 Ere a score of miles was covered, running close 
 to Benson Hill, ' 
 
 Down the Thirty went and Billy to the foot of 
 Bailey's fill. 
 
 He had little time for thinking, yet he scorned 
 
 to leave his post, 
 And the brakes he sprang to danger and he soon 
 
 began to roast. 
 For the firebox door flew open, but the rescuers 
 
 were near. 
 And they quickly extricated the heroic engineer. 
 
 There are times he seems to rally and at other 
 
 times he raves, 
 Just as others did before him who are filling 
 
 heroes' graves; 
 
14 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 When we tell him how his courage saved his 
 
 passengers, he smiles, 
 And how flowers reach him daily from admirers 
 
 round for miles. 
 
 Here's old Sawbones now returning and we'll 
 
 shortly know his doom, 
 If again he'll live to join us or be carried to the 
 
 tomb ; 
 "All the danger's past this morning, you'll see 
 
 Billy back once more 
 In a week or two at longest just as sprightly as 
 
 of yore." 
 
 We have many men like Billy, who play touch 
 
 and go with death 
 In the cabs of locomotives with their very latest 
 
 breath. 
 And unnumbered scores of heroes we have gently 
 
 laid at rest 
 Till the trumpet shall be sounded, with an E. 
 
 upon each breast. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 15 
 
 TO MR. W. H. TRUESDALE, 
 
 Founder of the Employees' Pension, Delaware, 
 Lackawanna & Western Railroad. 
 
 Mr. President Truesdale, when singing this song, 
 I but echo the praise of the thankfulest throng 
 Of old gray-beards all over the system, that e'er 
 Gained the hilltop of joy from the depths of 
 
 despair. 
 Now we feel that at last we've a father in fact, — 
 One not given to talk, but humanely to act. 
 Filled with justice for those who gave muscle and 
 
 brain 
 Night and day, to your road in snow, sunshine 
 
 and rain. 
 
 When you first came amongst us we trembled 
 
 with fear, 
 For we felt you intended to drive us from here ; 
 But we soon found you noble and kindly of 
 
 heart, 
 Most approachable, — liberal too, — from the start ; 
 One who acted, instead of professing to be 
 A true friend and a father to each employee. 
 Like some "friends" whom we wot of who 
 
 blowed their bazoos, 
 Just to hear themselves talk but who'd pensions 
 
 refuse. 
 
16 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Those old lads held us down — they kept salaries 
 
 small, 
 Just enough to keep bread in our stomachs, that's 
 
 all; 
 And we dreaded the time when we couldn't get 
 
 round 
 With the gait of the boys who are youthful and 
 
 sound. 
 But your brains sought the problem your kind 
 
 heart desired ; 
 Now we old servants feel, when we're ailing or 
 
 tired. 
 That the poorhouse will not be the final abode 
 Of us men who gave all our best years to your 
 
 road. 
 
 Speaking, Sir, for myself, I have oft by the boys 
 
 Been invited all over to sociable joys. 
 
 Just because with my pen I've been handy at 
 
 times 
 And could tickle their fancies with doggerel 
 
 rhymes ; 
 But I had to decline. When my service is o'er 
 And the duties of years shall require me no more, 
 I'll be off when invited. Wherever I go, 
 Of yourself and your road like a rooster I'll crow. 
 
SHANDY xxIAGUIKE's POEMS 17 
 
 I shall point to the stripes of my service in years 
 To the listeningf throne's till I move them to 
 
 cheers 
 For the read and the man who presides at its 
 
 head, 
 Who a^: cured us old-timers fixed rations of bread. 
 And I feel that your coffers shall never decline, 
 For you'll multiply friends for yourself and your 
 
 line ; 
 \nd the dear Lackawanna with patrons shall 
 
 bloom 
 Through \our management after we're laid in 
 
 the ton:b. 
 
 FLIRTING OFFICIALLY PROHIBITED. 
 
 Dear Mr. Blackall, you deserve 
 
 My most sincere and heartfelt thanks, 
 Fcr punishing, without reserve, 
 
 The male coquettes within our ranks. 
 When I perused in public print 
 
 Your order to your engineers, 
 I laughed until, like sparks from flint, 
 
 j\Iy eyes shed down big pearly tears. 
 
 Oh, many a long and tedious night 
 
 Fve tortured niy insipid brain. 
 To guide upon the path of right 
 
 The greasy dudes on every train. 
 
18 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Despair did oft my vitals gnaw, 
 
 For when a lady they'd espy, 
 They'd break through all the Moral Law 
 
 To catch her roguish, winsome eye. 
 
 I'd sometimes blame them right severe; 
 
 And Holy Writ I'd ransack o'er, 
 To show them how the course to steer. 
 
 That leads to Canaan's happy shore ; 
 They'd hang their heads in meekness low, 
 
 And guilty plead to acting rash, 
 But, when from out my sight they'd go, 
 
 T would be to make another "mash." 
 
 The human heart is prone to err, 
 
 And often beats with sinful force ; 
 But fierce is the reaction, sir, 
 
 When it is tortured by remorse. 
 For me, I walk the narrow road, 
 
 Beset with brambles, rocks and briers, 
 But, bless you! as I onward strode, 
 
 I've often had some queer desires. 
 
 A pair of crimson lips I know. 
 
 That shed their humid fragrance out. 
 Like tropic breezes when they blow 
 
 Perfume of spicy wales about ; 
 A shape like Juno's, when she won 
 
 The heart divine of mighty Jove; 
 Her smiles as bright as midday sun. 
 
 And every movement made to love ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 19 
 
 Her teeth are pearly white, her cheeks 
 
 Are blooming as the roses red ; 
 Her voice is music when she speaks, 
 
 And raven tresses crown her head ! 
 Her little hands, when placed in mine. 
 
 Can thrill me with delightful bliss ; 
 And never had I tasted wine 
 
 Intoxicating as her kiss ! 
 
 If she were standing near the track. 
 
 And did a signal to me make. 
 Though I ne'er fetched your engine back, 
 
 I'd flirt until my arm would ache ; 
 I would, if both injectors "broke," 
 
 Or pumps gave out, or crown-sheet bare, 
 I'd also let the crank-pins smoke, 
 
 Till I'd salute this lady fair! 
 
 I know on duty it is wrong, 
 
 And I'll admit that you are right ; 
 I'll also aid you with this song 
 
 I'm moralizing in to-night. 
 You're worthy of the greatest praise ; 
 
 But, sir, you have a task to fill 
 Your leisure hours, for countless days. 
 
 E'en then they'll all be flirting still. 
 
 You'd surely need an hundred eyes. 
 
 And every one as flashing bright 
 As Venus in the autumn skies, 
 
 To keep your engineers in sight ! 
 
20 SHANDY MAGUIKe's POEMS 
 
 Because I know they'll flirt and wink, 
 With hearts aflair.e a:iJ ir.ouths agape. 
 
 They'd do so, sir, I really think. 
 
 At scarecrows dressed in woman's shape ! 
 
 They act like boys juct cut cf teens, 
 
 And not like n:en redate and old ; 
 To dare to flirt with Nature's queens ! 
 
 Their hearts should all be frozen cold ! 
 But grind up your official shears. 
 
 And clip their wayv.ard wings with speed 
 We'll stop those flirtir.g engineers, 
 
 Or make their hearts in anguish bleed ! 
 
 And, mind you, keep a watchful eye 
 
 Upon your firen:en, for I'v'e known 
 Those lads to work a ca:c up cly. 
 
 And claim the prize r.3 a:' Ihcir own. 
 Conductors never f.irt at a!!. 
 
 Oh ! no indeed, the saintly set ! 
 They never enter Cupid's thrall. 
 
 Or struggle in his amorous net ! 
 
 'Tis only those within the cab, 
 
 Who have no other work to do 
 Than simply flirt, and vrink, and blab. 
 
 With women whom they hourly view. 
 Perhaps you have been there yourself, 
 
 And know just how the game is played? 
 If so, old harp, go on the shelf. 
 
 Some other ti"? I'^l r.eed -cur aid. 
 
SHANDY MACUIKe's I'OEMS 2\ 
 
 A SMOKER'S LYRIC. 
 
 Don't talk to me of fine cigars, 
 
 With fragrance of the tropics ripe ; 
 For soHd comfort on the cars 
 
 Oh ! give me my old darling pipe. 
 It never fails to touch the spot. 
 
 Twill banish every care and pang; 
 'Tis just as sweet and matters not 
 
 If filled with Turkish pride or whang. 
 
 An apple-wood or brier root, 
 
 Or old black bucket, made of clay, 
 When steaming freely in my snoot. 
 
 Can drive blue devils far away; 
 Amid the wreaths my thoughts arise, 
 
 And gaily float on buoyant wings ; 
 With every puff it seems a prize 
 
 From Fortune's grab-bag freely springs. 
 
 I always carry a supply 
 
 Of Navy clippings in the cab. 
 'Tis more nutritious, boys, than pie, 
 
 No matter how the doctors blab 
 About the nervous syrtem or 
 
 Spasmodic action of the heart ; 
 Why, boys, 'twill soothe the stomach's war, 
 
 When pierced with hunger's keenest dart ! 
 
22 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 This isn't just the theme to suit 
 
 A lady's fine, esthetic ear ; 
 She'd much prefer a mild cheroot 
 
 The subject of my praises here ; 
 To Sheol with the whole brigade 
 
 Of cigarettes and choice cigars ; • 
 For solid comfort nothing's made 
 
 To beat a pipe in smoking cars ! 
 
 I've ridden o'er the Northern States, 
 
 To Union meetings and to balls, 
 Accompanied by jovial mates, 
 
 Who always jump when duty calls. 
 I've heard them freely canvass o'er 
 
 The many grades a smoker's got. 
 And all of them in chorus swore 
 
 It takes a pipe to touch the spot. 
 
 Cigars may please your Sunday girl, 
 
 And are the best for dress parade ; 
 But, 'mid our scenes of daily peril, 
 
 With some old pelter on a grade, 
 When pumps give out or pins run hot. 
 
 Or cataracts run down the flues. 
 The only thing to bless your lot 
 
 Is fill your pipe and chase the blues. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRES POEMS 
 
 23 
 
 TO REV. CHAELES COYNE, PITTSBURG, PA. 
 
 By request of a number of Brothers, 
 
 Who hung with deUght on your tongue, 
 And also from numerous others, 
 
 All scattered your audience among, 
 I've been asked if I'd sing you a measure 
 
 Expressing our thanks for your speech, 
 Here's at you, dear father, with pleasure, 
 
 In the way I'm accustomed to preach. 
 
 We'll never forget how you thrilled us 
 
 That day with your eloquent words. 
 How with maxims of wisdom you filled us 
 
 As full as the language affords. 
 We were swayed by the touch of a master, 
 
 Unconsciously moving along. 
 Who discussed all his topics much faster 
 
 Than I can describe them in a song. 
 
 Unassuming we saw you before us 
 
 Reluctantly rise to begin ; 
 Soon away with your subject you bore us, 
 
 Until to yourself we were kin ; 
 You were meek, and you chastened our spirits. 
 
 You were proud and we glowed with the same, 
 You were candid, reciting our merits, 
 
 And you placed us in niches of fame. 
 
24 siiANDV maguire's poems 
 
 You rebuked, and we bowed in 
 
 In hun:blene:3 liiccing' l!ie rod ; 
 Tor you pictured the pains -of perdition 
 
 For men who're ungrateful to God. 
 Ycu were broad in your language, we boundec' 
 
 Away from the conSneG of creeds; 
 A::d a;:)plause up in thunder, rccounded 
 
 When you told of cur heroic deeds. 
 
 When } -:u spoke in a r.:anner pathetic, 
 
 W^e rccponsively melted in tears, 
 And again, all our feelings magnetic 
 
 Were instantly known by our cheer::. 
 None but orators gifted by nature 
 
 Could sway us and bear us along, 
 As you did by words, gestures and stature 
 
 That great representative throng. 
 
 There's a future refulgent before you, 
 
 Which leads to the hilltop of fame. 
 Men \vho hear you can't he.p but adore }-ou. 
 
 And wreathe with green laurels your name. 
 O'er this nation, from ocean to ocean, 
 
 V/e are sounding your praises to-day. 
 With the warmest thrills of emotion. 
 
 Which ne'er in our hearts shall decay. 
 
SIIANDV AIAC^UIKE S I'OEAIS -J 
 
 JACK REGAN'S GHOST. 
 
 Jack Regan's ghost came ir) last night and v.t.^. ! 
 
 beside my bed — 
 Poor Jack for six or seven years is numberc I 
 
 with the dead — 
 Of course I got a fearful shock when I beheld 
 
 him there, 
 And barely could I move my lips to offer up a 
 
 prayer ; 
 Like quills upon the porcupine stood every hair 
 
 I had ; 
 My eyes stuck out upon my face just like r 
 
 fellow's mad ; 
 I shook in fearful agony, my brain began to roast, 
 Until admonished to keep cool by Johnny Re- 
 gan's ghost. 
 
 "Don't make a jackass of yourself," the phantom 
 then began, 
 
 "Your fluent pen and brawling tongue oft said 
 you were a man ; 
 
 And now, at mid hour of the night, you're 
 paralyzed with fear. 
 
 Because for old-time friendship's sake I come to 
 visit here. 
 
 I'm sure that I'm not such a fright as you would 
 make believe 
 
 I'm just as I appeared in life, and cut on a re- 
 prieve 
 
26 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 From fires that belch beneath the earth until the 
 
 dawn of day ; 
 So, Shandy, lad, I thought I'd come awhile with 
 
 you to stay." 
 
 I felt a wave of courage, boys, sweep gently o'er 
 
 my brow ! 
 The spook's words put me at my ease, as calm 
 
 as I am now ; 
 And when he asked me for my pipe, 'twas ready 
 
 with a match, 
 But Jack, poor soul ! was hot enough the caven- 
 dish to catch 
 A little streak of colored gas with every whiff 
 
 he blew 
 Forth from his mouth, about my head, of most 
 
 sepulchral hue ; 
 The atmosphere it made so dense within my little 
 
 room, 
 I fancied that it was the smoke from that poor 
 
 fellow's tomb. 
 
 He smacked his lips when he had done and put 
 
 my pipe away ; 
 And there we two did sit and chat until the dawn 
 
 of day ; 
 First, Jack led off, and asked the news, I told him 
 
 all I knew. 
 But when he heard his wife had wed he in a fury 
 
 flew ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 27 
 
 I tried to pacify him but my efforts were in vain, 
 Until I said she Hved a Hfe of more tlian mortal 
 
 pain; 
 That seemed to make him more serene, it quelled 
 
 his burning ire, 
 And then of chaps long gone from earth I kindly 
 
 did inquire: 
 
 "Pray how is old Tom Raymond, Jack? Come 
 
 tell me truth, I crave ; 
 I fondly hope he nov/ enjoys good times beyond 
 
 the grave." 
 "That hoary fox is singed at last, he handbrakes 
 
 on a train 
 That Puffenberger nightly runs with scabs to 
 
 Brimstone Plain." 
 "Is Jimmy Smith enjoying health?" "Yes, 
 
 Jimmy feels first rate, 
 He and Jim Currie double crew the Hell's Half 
 
 Acre freight." 
 "How feels Ben Evans down there now?" "Oh, 
 
 Ben keeps standing in, 
 Old Beelzebub was captured by his good old 
 
 social grin." 
 
 "Jack, how does Eddie Cronin fare?" "Alas! 
 
 I hate to say. 
 Gene Potter chain-gangs with him there, and has 
 
 his own sweet way; 
 
28 siiANDV maguire's poems 
 
 Tocr Eddie fires for Eugene now, and growls 
 
 about the coal. 
 And Gene runs with the lever down, to roast poor 
 
 Eddie's soul." 
 "Does J. H. Maxwell ever rise to stifflicate the 
 
 chair?" 
 "No, nary time, his tongue is still; he must keep 
 
 quiet there, 
 Jack Horner, Gillet, and himself are mute as 
 
 parlor mice, 
 The only sound escapes them now is when they 
 
 call for ice." 
 
 "How fares it with Ben Pickern, say?" "Oh, 
 
 Ben is all O. K. 
 His job is just to brain the scabs who tr\' to 
 
 sneak aw^ay." 
 "Say, Jack, how is Jim Tobin?" "Well! he 
 
 drives his coach and six. 
 It is the grandest equipage beyond the River 
 
 Styx." 
 "Is Eli Vail amongst the spooks that hourly v.eep 
 
 and wail?" 
 "Yes, Eli has a cushioned pew^ inside the chancel 
 
 rail." 
 "George Stitcher surely you have met? v^^:c- 
 
 Whittaker' is there. 
 And doesn't need an overcoat, so sultry is t'.c 
 
 air." 
 
SHANDY MAGUIKE's POEMS 29 
 
 "How fares Jim Daley 'niongst the gang?" "He 
 
 doesn't fare at all, 
 He's inside watchman on a gate right under 
 
 Montreal ; 
 jim Edwards and Tom Clarke snoop round to 
 
 try and sneak away ; 
 Jack says they make him such a tiir.c that very 
 
 hell's to pay." 
 "Ike Scofield must be'somewhere there?" "Yes, 
 
 Ike he runs express ; 
 His passengers are faithless wives, in sorrow and 
 
 distress." 
 "Jim Jacobs have you ever met down in that 
 
 sultry clime?" 
 "No; Jim is deeper down than I, and has an 
 
 awful time. 
 
 H^e must have been a tough old nut and full of 
 impish vim. 
 
 Because it takes two stalwart lads to rake the 
 fires for Jim." 
 
 "Are any Rocky Mountain boss located down 
 there, Jack?" 
 
 "Tom Moseley and P. J. McGill boss gangs re- 
 pairing track, 
 
 Mike Ryan runs the hot-air pump, Herm Wills 
 I've hourly seen, 
 
 Cy Warman sings, as laureate, sweet songs in 
 Fiddler's Green." 
 
30 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 ''Has J. D. Riestet- got there, Jack?" *'Yes, 
 
 Riester just came down; 
 Joe Jeffries and he declare they'll carminize the 
 
 town." 
 
 ''John Scully, a Chicago boy, no doubt, you've 
 
 often met?" 
 "No; John's debarred, he can't get in, he doesn't 
 
 freely sweat." 
 "John Sanborn, chief of Ninety-six, I hear, is 
 
 doing time ? 
 Please give me a few pointers, till I roast him in 
 
 my rhyme !" 
 "Don't do it, for, poor soul ! the heat is more 
 
 than he can bear ; 
 He kicks just like an army "mule at everything 
 
 dow^n there." 
 "Ed Taylor, is he gathered in? We haven't 
 
 met for years. 
 If I should hear he suffers much I'd shed a lake 
 
 of tears." 
 "For mercy's sake don't mention Ed — what noise 
 
 'is that I hear?" 
 "Why, Jack, old friend, it sounds just like Tom 
 
 Reilley's chanticleer!" 
 "Good night! I'm off! I'll come again to finish 
 
 out my chat, 
 I'll tell you more of down below and what your 
 
 chums are at." 
 
SHANDY MAGUIKE S POEMS 
 
 JACK'S GHOST AGAIN. 
 
 31 
 
 "Why Jack, old friend, you here again? Sit 
 
 down and with me stay ; 
 You're welcome as the birds that come to sing 
 
 for us this ]\lay." 
 "Oh, yes, I'm here. My life was tough before I 
 
 came up last, 
 But now, I'm crushed by countless ills more 
 
 poignant than the past ; 
 There isn't one I squealed about but vengeance 
 
 is his cry, 
 And swears he'll grill my very heart for being 
 
 such a spy. 
 I never dreamt you'd print their names for other 
 
 chaps to read, 
 I told you all in confidence, and thought you 
 
 would it heed ; 
 They're like a lot of roaring bulls, and when 
 
 yourself they catch 
 Look out for vengeance, for they swear a deadly 
 
 plot they hatch 
 To crucify you for the rhymes you strung in 
 
 fiendish glee. 
 Oh, Shandy, sure as here we sit, you'll sufifer yet 
 
 like me." 
 ''Don't worry. Jack, poor jovial soul! It's time 
 
 enough to cry 
 When I am hit, besides, old friend, the gang I 
 
 do defy; 
 
SHANDY MAGUTl.E S POE.VS 
 
 They've often on me got the laugh, and never 
 
 'stopped to think 
 The time would come for me to paste them back 
 
 with printer's ink. 
 Now, here's a very good cigar, ju:t take a social 
 
 whifi. 
 And for an hour or two forget that you're a 
 
 strolling stifif. 
 We'll chat and smoke, and crack a jcke about our 
 
 former pards, 
 Those sanctimonious chaps who've gone to get 
 
 their just rewards." 
 "Here's at you! Get your pencil out, I'll tell you 
 
 all I know. 
 I served as walking delegate amongst them down 
 
 below ; 
 There isn't in the whole domain an inch escaped 
 
 my sight ; 
 This smoke feels good, and I'm in trim to chat 
 
 awhile to-night." 
 " 'Tis well! Sweet Kitty and the kids enjoy a 
 
 calm repose, 
 But if they'll wake, I fear they'll smell the brim- 
 stone on your clothes. 
 We'll take a chance, most married men do more 
 
 or less of that. 
 Now, Jack, I'll name the lads I want, you tell 
 
 me what they're at : 
 Is Tom McKenna happy there. New Brunswick's 
 
 jovial son?" 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 33 
 
 "Indeed he is, where'er he goes he stirs up lots 
 
 of fun. 
 Bill Bastin, Tom and Jim O'Neill have charge of 
 
 all supplies, 
 They give the stokers lots of coal, dude clerks 
 
 to paralyze." 
 'T hope when down again you'll go Jim Brown 
 
 and Jack you'll find, 
 And tender them my kind regards, this mission 
 
 bear in mind." 
 "Indeed, I shall. I know them well. They're 
 
 cherubs near the throne. 
 Jim ranks as past Grand Chief, and bears that 
 
 title all alone." 
 "Does Eddie Miller frizz his hair the same as by- 
 gone days?" 
 "No! Ed don't need a curling tongs his frizzled 
 
 bangs to raise. 
 The heat is fierce enough for that. Old bachelors 
 
 like 'Slim' 
 Are barberized by hack saws there to regulation 
 
 trim." 
 "Pete Kildufii was a saint on earth. Jack, tell me, 
 
 how is Pete?" 
 "Poor fellow ! miserable enough, he can't endure 
 
 much heat, 
 He roasted you in Pittsburg once, but pity him, I 
 
 pray. 
 And send him down a chunk of ice his mad 
 
 thirst to allay." 
 
34 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 ''Bill Hayes, of Minneapolis, was broad gauged 
 
 with us here. 
 And in our grand old Brotherhood he didn't 
 
 have a peer. 
 Say, is my much esteemed old friend enjoying 
 
 peaceful rest?" 
 "You bet he is ! He reigns as king of Sheol's 
 
 whole northwest." 
 "Where's Sandy Rusk, the foxy rogue, so full 
 
 of impish tricks?" 
 "He's captain of a leaky scow, and cruises on the 
 
 Styx ; 
 He ferries train dispatchers o'er that bed of 
 
 liquid flame, 
 And drops one over now and then who bore an 
 
 evil name." 
 "Does Johnny Fisk smile gracious yet, the same 
 
 as days gone by?" 
 "Yes, John has got the same old glance stuck 
 
 in his weather eye ; 
 He sentinels the lower tier, where long gone 
 
 tyrants dwell. 
 And keeps a steadfast gaze upon poor F. B. 
 
 Gowan's cell." 
 "Is Jim McDonough at his ease in happiness 
 
 supreme?" 
 "Indeed he is, and never lacks a boiler full of 
 
 steam ; 
 
 He sends you up his kind regards, and says he 
 loves you still." 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 35 
 
 ''Lord bless him, Jack, take down from me the 
 
 same with right good will ; 
 And tell him that his cotton bale I had to quickly 
 
 knife, 
 A few short months ago to save our much-loved 
 
 baby's life. 
 Bill Tompson, of injector fame, pray tell me 
 
 where is he?" 
 "Oh, don't you worry. Bill is there, a cell or two 
 
 from me ; 
 He counts his beads, and sings his hymns, a fur- 
 lough to obtain. 
 But Bill will have a tough old time before they 
 
 loose his chain." 
 "I miss a brisk Elmira chap from scenes of 
 
 former times. 
 Who'd sing 'come all ye' song all night, and 
 
 spout my pointless rhymes, 
 Poor Frank McKeon is whom I mean, a very 
 
 good gossoon." 
 "That chap has heavy bracelets on, and sighs to 
 
 see the moon ; 
 Long epochs must elapse before life's ills he does 
 
 atone, 
 Jim Lonergan may count his beads but can't pray 
 
 out McKeon." 
 "Gene Potter wrote me to inquire how Billy 
 
 Foran feels? 
 If Evans, chief of Sixty-one, goes regular to 
 
 meals ? 
 
36 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 And if Jack Sheridan is still the same old jovial 
 
 soul 
 He was the night in Montreal, he told such 
 
 stories droll?" 
 ''They're there ! I'll tell them all how kind was 
 
 Potter to inquire, 
 He'd like to see them roasted, but they're close 
 
 enough to fire." 
 Is Dickenson, a New York boy, located in that 
 
 place ?" 
 ''I saw him just before I left, with salt tears on 
 
 his face ; 
 He tried to get a brief lay off, but quickly was 
 
 denied ; 
 He's kept in close confinement since the very 
 
 night he died." 
 "How is it with those chaps who climb promo- 
 tion's ladder's rounds. 
 And leave us when we help them up, the dirty 
 
 thankless hounds ?" 
 'They're scoffed and spat at, kicked and spurned 
 
 where'er they chance to steal, 
 With 'ingrate' stamped on back and breast, 
 
 their presence to reveal." 
 "John Burns I've missed a year or two, I hope 
 
 he's doing well?" 
 "He runs a sort of pick-up train where some ex- 
 preachers dwell. 
 Chicago visitors, like John, with windy western 
 
 ways, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 37 
 
 Are sprinkled oft with kerosene to keep them in 
 
 a blaze." 
 "I wonder if old Johnny Kells, a sterling friend 
 
 of mine, 
 Is running pay car thereabouts on any Hades 
 
 line?" 
 ''He's station clerk in Fidler's Green, and checks 
 
 all comers through, 
 Consigned to Satan's lowest pit, that call there 
 
 from the Q." 
 "Now, Jack, speak low, with bated breath, and 
 
 take your solemn oath 
 This question I am going to ask, with feelings 
 
 very loath, 
 You'll never tell a single soul I ever asked it. 
 
 Swear ! 
 'Tis well ! Now tell me, dear old ghost, is J. B. 
 
 Maxwell there?" 
 ''Hush! Shandy, listen to me now. I'll give 
 
 you what I know — " 
 Just then the cocks in clarion tones began to 
 
 loudly crow. 
 Gray streaks of light far in the East proclaimed 
 
 the coming dawn, 
 And from my sight, with head-long dive, Jack 
 
 Regan's ghost was gone. 
 
38 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 "Oh, Jack ! I thought the prayers I said above 
 
 your lonely mound, 
 Since last you took your flight from here, would 
 
 keep you sleeping sound. 
 You must have been a tough old nut. You stroll 
 
 where churchyards yawn, 
 And terrify your friends on earth from midnight 
 
 till the dawn. 
 Now, tell me, what can bring you here, when all 
 
 around is gloom, 
 Except the blaze your presence sends about my 
 
 lonely room? 
 Some heinous sin, some weighty crime you must 
 
 have unconfess'd. 
 Because unlike the sinless dead, in peace you 
 
 cannot rest." 
 
 "Perhaps you're right, perhaps you're wrong. 
 
 I'm not at all at ease, 
 That's why I make these midnight trips, to woo 
 
 the wintry breeze. 
 I love a snow path, when the drifts are towering 
 
 o'er the stack. 
 Yet sometimes feel I'm better off than slaves on 
 
 railway track ; 
 I simply suffer with the heat, while they must 
 
 stand the cold. 
 And all the other nameless ills their half-clad 
 
 frames can hold. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 39 
 
 Tonight I've made a special trip, commissioned 
 
 to inquire 
 If you've reformed blaspheming ways, to miss 
 
 eternal fire? 
 The rumor came by many down; they positively 
 
 swore, 
 That from your chums, alive and dead, you've 
 
 sneaked forevermore ; 
 If so, it is a sudden change, and countless shades 
 
 in chains 
 Will gnash their teeth to think you'll miss their 
 
 never-ending pains." 
 
 "Yes, Jack, an automatic brake now sets upon 
 
 my tongue — 
 The straight air one too often failed to check me 
 
 when 'twas sprung. 
 I find when things are working wrong 'tis just 
 
 as well to pray. 
 Soft words can lubricate my throat and drive 
 
 all ills away ; 
 Besides, I'll stand a better chance when Gabriel's 
 
 trump shall blow, 
 Than you and all your pals who take a cooling 
 
 bath in snow." 
 
 "Well, boy, I don't know but you're right. Had 
 
 I made such a vow 
 Long, long ago, I wouldn't think a linen duster 
 
 now 
 
40 SHANDY MAGUIRE'S POEMS 
 
 Too heavy for an overcoat, while zero pelts a 
 
 • breeze 
 So icy cold an Arctic bear, of robust life, would 
 
 freeze. 
 How very seldom does a chap reflect on coming 
 
 death, 
 When on some God- forsaken mile he pops off 
 
 fiery breath. 
 At dirty coal, at leaky flues, at boxes blazing red, 
 At all the nameless things we find to fire the 
 
 coolest head, 
 To boil the life-blood in our hearts and turn our 
 
 hair to gra}' — 
 It's only some white-livered saint at things like 
 
 these can pray." 
 
 "Dear Jack, you're w.rong, I know a score of 
 
 double-breasted boys. 
 Who after many sinful years now taste celestial 
 
 joys; 
 They're running yet, and every one manipulates 
 
 a train 
 As good as those of brimstone breath, besides 
 
 can stand the strain. 
 'Tis best to be a model man that blustering ways 
 
 can stop. 
 That scattered wild oats long ago, and harvested 
 
 the crop ; 
 Why can't I be as good as those that from rough 
 
 ways came o'er, 
 And get a berth when done with life on Jordan's 
 
 happy shore? 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 41 
 
 "Because such fellows as you tell go regular 
 
 to church, 
 While you would need a Texan bull to haul you 
 
 through the porch ; 
 Each one can pray as fluent now as in the days 
 
 of yore ; 
 Without a stammer in his voice incessantly he 
 
 swore ; 
 While you — oh, hang it. Shandy, come away 
 
 from piercing cold 
 iVnd join the lads you loved in life, those heroes 
 
 stout and bold ; 
 Wlio didn't care a brown bawbee if life should 
 
 last or not ; 
 When running pelters on the rails, with bearings 
 
 blazing hot, 
 V/ith thumping boxes, guides and pins, enough 
 
 to kill a mule. 
 Upon some old distracted mill, the firebox only 
 
 cool ; 
 That's why we can endure the heat in regions 
 
 where I stroll ; 
 Besides, you'll never hear complaints about DOor 
 
 grades of coal. 
 Our fuel is the very best that ever made a blaze. 
 We never need to slash the fire a head of steam 
 
 to raise. 
 Say, may I, tell the gang, you're still a brother 
 
 tried and true, 
 And when old Death your gizzard cuts they all 
 
 may look for you?" 
 
42 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 "Away, you peace-disturbing wretch Don't 
 tamper with my vows. 
 
 Forevermore your hateful shape must not pollute 
 my hotise. 
 
 The stumbling blocks beneath my feet may hurt 
 my tender toes. 
 
 But on I'll bravely tramp the road, to seek in 
 death repose. 
 
 What's time but just a second's space, though 
 life lasts eighty years, 
 
 And from the cradle to the grave may be a road 
 of tears, 
 
 Yet, at its close, an endless rest is waiting for 
 the just. 
 
 Whose ransomed souls on angel wings soar up- 
 ward from the dust. 
 
 Away ! and tell your sinful pards that navigate 
 the Styx, 
 
 I've turned my back on old resorts and all out- 
 landish tricks. 
 
 Just take a header and be gone. The roosters 
 soon will crow. 
 
 You'll never see my humble phiz among the 
 spooks below." 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 43 
 
 A MIDNIGHT VISITOR. 
 
 I threw myself upon the hed in rather sorry 
 
 plight. 
 For dreamless sleep and needed rest, at twelve 
 
 o'clock last night ; 
 But scarcely had my eyelids closed till wheels 
 
 began to roll 
 With fearful speed within my skull, that har- 
 rowed up my soul. 
 I heard a knock, I said: ''Come in," I thought 
 
 'twas at the door, 
 And soon a spook 'longside my bed monopolized 
 
 the floor; 
 I almost screamed; ''Shut up," it cried, "if not, 
 
 your heart I'll roast. 
 You know me well, we once were chums, I'm 
 
 Johnny Regan's ghost. 
 
 "Oh, holy mother of Moses ! Jack, say ! are you 
 
 in there yet?" 
 "You brainless fool! why need you ask? Just 
 
 note the way I sweat. 
 While zero blizzards swept the sky, you see I 
 
 can't keep cool. 
 No one would ask that question but a lunatic or a 
 
 fool. 
 Of course, I'm there, and on the whole, I think 
 
 I'm better ofif 
 Than you poor railroad niggers here, that freeze 
 
 and starve and cough; 
 
44 SHANDY MAGUIRE^S POEMS 
 
 I wouldn't swap my job tonight with any toiling 
 
 slave, 
 We've better times way down in — well, at my 
 
 side of the grave. 
 
 I'll light my old dudheen until I have a social 
 
 whiff, ^ 
 
 And then I'll chat a while with you, just like a 
 
 strolling stiff. 
 Ah, there it goes ! 'tis steaming free, not like 
 
 gigantic hogs 
 That make the lives of engineers far worse than 
 
 friendless dogs. 
 There was a time — before I died — when chaps 
 
 could take some rest, 
 The cabs were built with seats for two, where 
 
 both could talk and jest, 
 And everything we needed then was furnished 
 
 to us here. 
 Those were the days we all felt proud to be an 
 
 engineer. 
 
 The other night we caught a spook we fished 
 
 for quite a spell. 
 You know his name, 'tis Jim Malone," "Say, 
 
 Jack, is he in h — ?" 
 "Indeed he is, and Paddy Doyle is also gathered 
 
 in." 
 "Alas ! alas ! my heart will break, I thought they 
 
 ne'er did sin, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 45 
 
 They looked as meek as parson's clerks, and 
 seemed to always pray ; 
 
 I often said they'd get a pew in realms of end- 
 less day." 
 
 "They're praying yet asthore, machree, but bless 
 your honest soul, 
 
 'Tis for the Lord to let them out, or furnish 
 poorer coal." 
 
 When in this room some years ago you know I 
 
 told you then, 
 That down beneath us was chock full of pious 
 
 railway men." 
 "I thought a man attending church, the moment 
 
 he would die 
 He'd soar above the ills of earth, to mansions o'er 
 
 the sky." 
 ''You were mistaken in your thought, and when 
 
 you join our squad. 
 You'll meet some sanctimonious plums you fancy 
 
 now with God." 
 ''Say, Jack, is such my final doom? Old friend, 
 
 reply sincere." 
 "If 'tis, you'll still be better off a thousand times 
 
 than here. 
 
 If now you had to seek a job, you first must sign 
 
 your name 
 Upon a blank, and state precise from whence 
 
 your granny came; 
 
46 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 If outside wedlock you were born, or if you have 
 
 a wife, 
 If so, how many kids you've got to hustle for in 
 
 life ; 
 If you are sound in wind and limb, with pulses 
 
 beating high. 
 And if you ever have been known to wink the 
 
 other eye — 
 Oh, say ! I'd rather rake the fire in Frank B. 
 
 Gowanville, 
 Than back up here come look for work again to 
 
 run a mill. 
 
 How have you been since last I called?" *T found 
 
 it pretty tough, 
 I often had to hustle round to try and keep my 
 
 lufif, 
 'Twas nip and tuck a thousand times to find some 
 
 bread to carve, 
 I'm yet alive and kicking, but I'll steal before I'll 
 
 starve. 
 And now, old friend, I'd like to hear from all the 
 
 lads below.'' 
 Just then a rooster flapped his wings, and gave a 
 
 lusty crow. 
 Jack took a header through the floor, and from 
 
 my sight was gone. 
 As purple streaks across the sky proclaimed the 
 
 coming dawn, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 47 
 
 NEW YEAR'S MORNING. 
 
 Hark ! the music of the morning, 
 
 From the silvery throats of bells, 
 Is melodious and entrancing, 
 
 And delightedly it tells 
 That a young New Year has risen 
 
 From his Orient couch of light, 
 To dispel the gloomy shadows 
 
 On the dismal brow of Night. 
 In the chariot of the morning 
 
 He is sweeping o'er the earth ; 
 And our hearts, in exultation, 
 
 Are most thankful for his birth ; 
 For we hope his reign shall teach us 
 
 That our stormy days are o'er, 
 And a kind, fraternal feeling 
 
 Shall prevail for evermore. 
 
 'Tis a loved and honored custom. 
 
 Which can move our lips sincere, 
 As we interchange the greetings 
 
 Of the happy, young New Year ! 
 When the smiles of joy are beaming, 
 
 And a love ligfit in the eyes ; 
 When no clouds bedim the splendor 
 
 Of our dear, domestic skies ; 
 When fraternal hands are clasping. 
 
 With a pressure firm as steel. 
 And ejaculations pious 
 
 Are sent heavenward for our weal — 
 
48 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 These are Christianizing customs, 
 Fining human hearts with love, 
 
 And reminders of the glory 
 Of our Father's home above ! 
 
 May the bonds of true affection 
 
 All our future lives entwine; 
 May hosannahs rise melodious. 
 
 To salute dear Eighty-nine ; 
 May Te Deums full of gladness 
 
 Up from every bosom ring, 
 And may Hope convey the tidings 
 
 That he'll prove a welcome king. 
 That his reign shall be a grand one ; 
 
 That the toilers of the earth 
 Shall have cause to bless the moment 
 
 When time ushered in his birth. 
 Friends, accept the heart-felt greetings 
 
 Which I tender you sincere, 
 With my true and earnest wishes 
 
 For a happy, happy year. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 49 
 
 "GOD GUIDE US." 
 
 This life a toilsome railroad is, 
 
 The track bestrewed with trouble, 
 Enough to cloud a smiling phiz, 
 
 With hills to daily double, 
 And oftentimes we're short of sand 
 
 When such sad ills betide us ; 
 'Tis then we must disheartened stand, 
 
 And humbly say: "God guide us." 
 
 Oh, Christianizing words ! how oft 
 
 In mental meditation 
 Our inward feelings sent aloft 
 
 That trite ejaculation. 
 The wisest of us all must feel, 
 
 When vicious men deride us. 
 At times we need a mute appeal 
 
 For God in heaven to guide us. 
 
 When slander flings its keenest dart, 
 
 Impelled by hate and malice. 
 To pierce our unsuspecting heart, 
 
 And overflow our chalice 
 With venomed gall ; then while we drink. 
 
 Without a friend beside us, 
 To anguished depths we quickly sink, 
 
 And pray for God to guide us. 
 
50 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 We may have strength and robust heahh, 
 
 And also be contented ; 
 Our coffers may o'erflow with wealth, 
 
 (Although my own are stinted) ; 
 Our friends may be a merry train, 
 
 And never know to chide us, 
 But, even so, each pious brain 
 
 Should hourly say, *'God guide us." 
 
 God guide us in our daily walks. 
 
 And guide us in our labors. 
 Oh, may He soothe our railing talks ; 
 
 And make us love our neighbors. 
 At morning, noon, and night we need 
 
 From evil ways to hide us. 
 Then, with our hearts from passion freed, 
 
 Devoutly say: "God guide us." 
 
 God guide our much-loved Brotherhood 
 
 Through ways of commendation. 
 An make it scatter broadcast good, 
 
 Devoid of tribulation ; 
 Oh, guide all kindred orders safe 
 
 By rocks that would divide us ; 
 And when we leave this vale of grief. 
 
 May He to glory guide us. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 51 
 
 MOONSHINE. 
 
 Oh ! give me the life of a dreamer, 
 
 To dream 'neath the shade of the trees, 
 Where I'll list to the birds and their singing. 
 
 And can drowse in the hum of the bees ; 
 Without ever a thought of the future, 
 
 Or this work-a-day world full of care. 
 Just to fill out a dreamer's existence, 
 
 In the balm of the exquisite air. 
 
 Oh ! give me the life of a dreamer. 
 
 Far away from the bustle and hum 
 Of the ne'er ending fight for a living, 
 
 Until all our heart-beats are dumb, 
 On the green, grassy slopes of the .uplands, 
 
 'Neath the shade of the wide-spreading trees, 
 Where the wild flowers scatter their fragrance. 
 
 When touched by the wandering breeze. 
 
 'Neath the blue of the skies are the mountains, 
 
 The rivers, the valleys, the plains. 
 The groves full of song birds, the fountains, 
 
 The grottoes and hawthorn lanes. 
 God builded the country, His wisdom 
 
 Inspires us and speaks to our hearts ; 
 Man's hand-work is seen in the city, 
 
 'Mid the barter and rush of the marts. 
 
52 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 When we v/ish to get nearer the angels, 
 
 And we sigh for a haven of rest, 
 We instinctively long for the verdure 
 
 Which blooms on some daisy-crowned crest ; 
 Where our brains and our bodies when weary 
 
 May drowse on the gem-spangled sod, 
 Far away from life's battles so dreary, 
 
 At ease in the temple of God. 
 
 Oh i I long for the life of a dreamer, 
 
 To weave my brain fancies in glee. 
 Where the clover tops sway in the zephyrs, 
 
 O'er-laden with sweets for the bee ; 
 Without any care for the morrow, 
 
 Like birds the green branches among. 
 Ne'er thinking a moment of sorrow. 
 
 Or the sad misereres unsung. 
 
 "DREAMY EYES." 
 
 What pleasure has this world for me 
 
 In all its verdure drest. 
 When pangs of bitter agony 
 
 Are surging through my breast, 
 Until my heart is choked with grief, 
 
 Because all joy has fled? 
 Tears will not flow to bring relief, 
 
 For "Dreamy Eyes" is dead. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 53 
 
 Some birds upon the verdant lawn, 
 
 Which used to hop and play, 
 And sing their songs from early dawn, 
 
 Until the close of day, 
 Have feathers flushed and mutely rest, 
 
 A wing conceals each head. 
 While others languish in the nest. 
 
 Since "Dreamy Eyes" is dead. 
 
 The crimson lips are now no more. 
 
 Where nectared joys did bloom ; 
 They'll never thrill like days of yore. 
 
 They molder in the tomb ; 
 The pearly teeth, the golden hair, 
 
 Which crowned her regal head. 
 The same sad desolation share. 
 
 For ''Dreamy Eyes" is dead. 
 
 Oh Death, thou grim destroyer, say 
 
 Why must the fairest fall > 
 
 Beneath thy cruel, ruthless sway. 
 
 When sad hearts wait thy call ? 
 Thou wilt not list to those whose feet 
 
 Are through misfortune led. 
 Who wish with resignation sweet 
 
 To have thee strike them dead. 
 
 It is the most divinely fair 
 
 Thy vengeance seems to prize. 
 
 Rich jewels in earth's garden rare. 
 Just like dear "Dreamy Eyes." 
 
54 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 I've known her ere her Hfe's young spring 
 
 Put on the buds of May, 
 And saw fresh graces round her spring 
 
 To crown her every day. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! I can but write 
 
 This song essayed in gloom, 
 And broken-voiced its words to-night 
 
 I chant above her tomb; 
 Its agonizing numbers sweep 
 
 My heart in plaintive knell, 
 But will not rouse her silent sleep 
 
 Dear "Dreamy Eyes," farewell. 
 
 ON TO RICHMOND. 
 
 Come, Brothers, from trans-Rocky lands 
 Where billows roll o'er leagues of sands 
 And come from ice-bound shores away, 
 Which mark the coast of Hudson's Bay 
 From frozen regions of the North ; 
 L.et men of mettle all come forth ; 
 From Nova Scotia come along 
 And swell the legislative throng 
 That marches on to Richmond. 
 
 From ocean o'er to ocean, send 
 Your representatives, to blend 
 Their voices in a grand hurrah 
 With those enacting every law 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 55 
 
 That is to guide our Brotherhood 
 Along the future, for our good, 
 To hold our friends with grasps of steel, 
 And be conducive to our weal. 
 In dear, historic Richmond. 
 
 Come up from Montezuma's Halls, 
 Respond to our fraternal calls ; 
 Let every tawny lad come forth 
 To meet his Brothers from the North, 
 And bring along the Southern girls. 
 Until we view the priceless pearls 
 Of tropic growth, of which w^e read. 
 And note if handsome looks exceed 
 
 Our Northern dames, at Richmond. 
 
 McClellan, in the days gone by, 
 With hostile guns did vainly try 
 To capture "Richmond on the James." 
 But we'll invent some other games 
 To take it, and we'll get there, too, 
 As sure as I converse with you. 
 Guns full of love we'll load and fire 
 Until we gain our heart's desire, 
 And enter into Richmond. 
 
 Virginia's consecrated ground 
 Has many a noble hero's mound ; 
 Brave men who died in freedom's cause. 
 And won for her the world's applause. 
 
56 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Adown the tide of ages, fame 
 Shall cluster 'round her honored name; 
 The ''Mother of Presidents" is she, 
 And when we tread her soil we'll be 
 
 Surprised with sights at Richmond. 
 
 Get out the old-time fife and drum, 
 And make them musically hum, 
 Until the very air vibrates 
 With marching clans from out the States ; 
 And bring your Sunday girl along, 
 With wives and aunts to swell the throng. 
 The Southern people all are kind, 
 And many noble souls we'll find 
 When we arrive at Richmond. 
 
 OUR BABY. 
 
 He's brighter than the morning skies, 
 
 Kissed by the sun's first beaming. 
 Ablaze in all their glorious dyes. 
 
 Across the blue vault streaming; 
 He's fairer than the unsunned snow. 
 
 And sweet as blooming clover. 
 Where bees in quest of honey go. 
 
 The little dear heart rover. 
 
 He's newly come from babyland. 
 
 With many infant graces ; 
 With dimpled cheek, with chubby hand, 
 
 And sweetest of all faces. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 57 
 
 His eyes now mirror forth his soul, 
 
 Where fihal love reposes, 
 His nectared lips, supremely droll 
 
 Outrival crumpled roses ! 
 
 There's not a phace of human love, 
 
 Or speech-defying rapture, 
 But what our little cooing dove 
 
 Can by his antics capture ; 
 He is a royal little lord, 
 
 And rules our whole dominions. 
 Since here he came to be adored 
 
 Upon his angel pinions. 
 
 Oh ! pure and holy human love, 
 
 Maternal and paternal, 
 Fit type of Him who rules above 
 
 And blooms in hearts supernal ; 
 All bosoms feel its thrills the same, 
 
 And glow in adoration. 
 Which helps to feed affection's flame. 
 
 In every rank and station. 
 
 Still may its tide keep bounding on 
 
 And never cease its flowmg, 
 To greet each little darling one, 
 
 That charms us with its crowing. 
 For when in single file they come, 
 
 We ne'er count time nor trouble, 
 But, Lord, they paralyze us dumb 
 
 When they salute us double. 
 
58 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 OLD LETTERS. 
 
 Ah ! there you are in your musty dress 
 
 Of tear-stains, crease and rime, 
 Conveying me joy and sore distress. 
 
 And marks of the teeth of time. 
 What's this? A letter from Susie Brown! 
 
 The date? Oh! none shall know, 
 For Susan caused me many a frown 
 
 In the halcyon long ago. 
 
 Now here is one that's yellow with rage, 
 
 And breathing of friendship dear, 
 On every line of the ample page 
 
 I've kept for many a year; 
 The writer's dead, but he still lives on 
 
 In my heart, and will for aye, 
 Till its beatings cease, till its mission's done. 
 
 And is laid in the voiceless clay. 
 
 This one I now peruse, O Lord ! 
 
 How time can change our ways ! 
 Its few brief words had pleasure stored, 
 
 Which trilled in those distant days. 
 It reads : ''Tomorrow take number three 
 
 As engineer, and be sure 
 You'll give a daily report to me." 
 
 No more of the furnace door ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 59 
 
 I was happy then, for I gained the side 
 
 For which I so long had toiled ; 
 My pulses thumped with a nameless pride 
 
 When the main rods first I oiled! 
 The Prince of Wales was not half so grand 
 
 As I was when I took the seat. 
 And dropped a spit on my throttle hand, 
 
 To go out with the local freight! 
 
 This here is a musty, scented note, 
 
 With faded myrtle leaf, 
 Which lifted my heart into my throat 
 
 When reading the lines so brief. 
 It ends with "J^^^^^^-" Where has she gone? 
 
 She's wed, and has children nine ! 
 Thank heaven she did my company shun. 
 
 For Fd hate to call them mine. 
 
 When a fellow toils for his daily bread, 
 
 On a "hog" on a railway track, 
 Some devilish thoughts cruise round his head, 
 
 And stitches twist his back ; 
 He doesn't want six or a dozen brats. 
 
 Or a too prolific wife. 
 To scamper round like a brood of cats. 
 
 And shorten his dreary life. 
 
 This one is headed ''Darling" here. 
 
 And it bears a recent date; 
 Condemn it, it caused me many a tear. 
 
 And nearly sealed my fate — 
 
60 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Oh ! go to the flames tiU the smoke-wreaths rise 
 
 Up into the evening air ! 
 Cremation's best to prevent surprise 
 
 At the contents strewn in there. 
 
 CHRISTMAS CHIMES. 
 
 Let gladsome notes, from countless throats, 
 
 In hearty praise arise, 
 Until our words, like songs of birds, 
 
 Resound 'neath wintry skies ; 
 For Christmas comes, and rolling drums 
 
 Will beat with festive cheer. 
 Across the wold, despite the cold. 
 
 To welcome Christmas here. 
 
 Let sighs of pain for once be vain 
 
 To keep our lives in woe ; 
 We'll stamp them down and on them frown, 
 
 While 'mid the genial glow 
 Of yule logs bright and pure delight 
 
 Of sundered friends so long, 
 We meet once more, like days of yore, 
 
 To sing the festive song. 
 
 Oh, happy time of which I rhyme ! 
 
 Oh, youth, with all its joys ! 
 Our sterner days can ne'er efiface 
 
 When we were girls and boys ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 61 
 
 When not a care we had to share 
 
 With ghouhsh, ghostly smarts, 
 But all was bliss, and mother's kiss 
 
 Like nectar filled our hearts ! 
 
 Forget the tears brought on by years 
 
 When fighting on life's road, 
 And let us sing, each one a king. 
 
 Who never felt the goad 
 Of hardships keen, so often seen 
 
 When struggling for our bread ; 
 Today feel bright, for soon the night 
 
 Will come, when we are dead. 
 
 If silvery hair now straggles where 
 
 Redundant locks once curled, 
 And crow-feet deep with constant leap 
 
 Against our brows are hurled, 
 No matter, sing! till Care takes wing, 
 
 Don't nurse disturbing sighs 
 Each anguished tear will surely sere 
 
 The brightest pair of eyes. 
 
 Our children's laugh if we'd but quaff, 
 
 Once more 'twould make us glow. 
 And soon we'd feel their romping weal. 
 
 Like days of long ago. 
 When we, too, played and merry made, 
 
 Chock full of childish glee. 
 In happy homes, 'neath humble domes. 
 
 Around the Christmas tree. 
 
62 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Who knows how soon the boastful boon 
 
 Of heahh and Hfe may cease, 
 And o'er our bones be sculptured stones 
 
 Which tell we sleep in peace? 
 No ray of light dispels the night 
 
 Which hangs above the dead; 
 So, reader dear, seek pleasure here, 
 
 If you've a level head. 
 
 Come ! stockings fill wath generous will 
 
 And make the season gay ; 
 Give gifts and toys to girls and boys 
 
 On glorious Christmas Day !• 
 In after years, perchance 'mid tears. 
 
 Their hearts will feel the glow 
 . Of former times, like him who rhymes, 
 
 And thinks of long ago. 
 
 LIFE'S TRIALS. 
 
 'Tis hard to live a life of toil. 
 
 Every day ; 
 To wade along knee-deep in moil. 
 
 Every day ; 
 Without a hope to cheer us on, 
 From rising till the setting sun. 
 Until life's weary race is run. 
 
 Some sure day. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 63 
 
 'Tis hard to suffer nameless ills, 
 
 Every day ; 
 To roast with fevers, shake with chills, 
 
 Every day. 
 'Tis burdensome upon the breast. 
 To sigh and moan for needed rest. 
 And have corroding care a guest, 
 
 Every day. 
 
 Philosophers their creed may preach, 
 
 Every day, 
 To keep content within our reach. 
 
 Every day ; 
 But human ills are hard to bear, 
 When joy is ousted by despair. 
 Caused by our mortal wear and tear. 
 
 Every day. 
 
 We're told there's peace beyond the tomb, 
 
 When we die ; 
 That evermore in bliss we'll bloom, 
 
 When we die ; 
 But such to gain through life we must 
 Besmear our bodies in the dust, 
 And never waver in our trust, 
 
 Ere we die. 
 
 I'd like to get a slice of life, 
 
 Now and then, 
 To feel its sunshine, miss its strife, 
 
 Now and then ; 
 
64 SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 I'd take it with a welcome grace, 
 Instead of in the future place, 
 Where we are told our sorrows cease, 
 In glory then. 
 
 We'll have to take the sour and sweet, 
 
 As they come ; 
 Our fate for good or ill we'll meet, 
 
 Let it come; 
 We cannot dodge what is decreed, 
 Though hardships make our bodies bleed, 
 Nor bottle sunshine in our greed ; 
 
 Fate must come. 
 
 May Heaven grant contentment sweet 
 
 To us all; 
 May sorrow flee on footsteps fleet 
 
 From us all ; 
 May hope's illuminating ray 
 Shed light upon us every day. 
 Instead of black despair, I pray. 
 
 That is all. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 THE CLIME WE LIVE IN. 
 
 65 
 
 Believe me, if all those huge snow-drifts shall 
 last 
 
 Till the sun bursts the tree buds in May, 
 I'll a corpse be, as sure as the winter goes past, 
 
 About four feet or more 'neath the clay ; 
 For I feel that a tussle with "beautiful snow," 
 
 When it tarries the whole season out. 
 Is enough to invite nie to bundle and go. 
 
 Where the s:hosts in their shrouds gad about. 
 
 fc)* 
 
 Yet, it is not the snow-drifts so much I despise, 
 
 As the caller who thumps at the door 
 Many hours ere the sun begins rubbing his eyes. 
 
 On the couch of his slumber secure. 
 Oh! the devil-toned tongue of the wretch is 
 enough 
 
 To drive reason away from my brain ; 
 As he says the cold night is so fearfully rough 
 
 That a wheel will not turn 'neath a train. 
 
 What a happiness glows in a poor fellow's breast 
 
 As he jumps out from under the clothes! 
 Fondly wishing his spouse left behind peaceful 
 rest. 
 
 With the bangs pointing down to her nose. 
 How he longs to get back to her arms in the bed, 
 
 To assist her to sleep till the day ; 
 But with eyelids as light as a piece of sheet lead, 
 
 Off to snow baths he must go awa}\ 
 
66 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 TO THE COLONEL, DENVER, COL. 
 
 Dear Colonel, my civilian life 
 
 Can't soldier salutation make, 
 I don't know how ; but feelings rife 
 
 Of friendship call to have you shake ; 
 Come, grasp my own extended fist. 
 We'll fondly wag until each wrist 
 Grows weary from excessive glee. 
 Between your honest self and me. 
 That's good ! We'll now enjoy a chat, 
 Don't think I'm "talking through my hat,' 
 I mean just every word I say, 
 So, kindly listen to me, pray. 
 You're now in clover to your nose. 
 And far away from former foes. 
 That you have met in many a gale 
 Upon the weary, wintry rail ! 
 But memory is vivid still ; 
 You don't forget each cursed mill 
 You stood upon in bygone days. 
 And made your breath like sulphur blaze 
 With hearty litanies of prayer. 
 When hope was conquered by despair. 
 And you have been in snow-drifts high ! 
 Have seen "old hogs" lie down and die ! 
 Have patted them, like other men, 
 To make the brutes get up again! 
 Have felt of hunger's gnawing sting, 
 When Zero reigned, a cruel king! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 67 
 
 Have stood and felt his body blows, 
 With icicles upon your nose ; 
 Until the tears, like bullets hard, 
 Ran down your cheeks, my worthy pard ! 
 And now, you're in a sunny clime, 
 Besides can write melodious rhyme — 
 Oh ! hang all ceremony, come. 
 
 Through etiquette's strict usage break. 
 Until we have a good yum-yum, 
 
 And still another hearty shake ! 
 
 Why, bless your dear old soul, I've felt 
 
 The breeze rush in through every pore 
 Of all the millions in my pelt, 
 
 Till in my bosoni's inmost core 
 It ruled the roost, in fury free, 
 And held a carnival of glee! 
 It bit me with its devil's tooth. 
 And made me gray, though yet in youth. 
 I've often, Colonel, had to paste 
 A piece of bell-cord round my waist, 
 As tightly as two lads could draw, 
 To soothe the cravings of my maw, 
 For crust or cracker, soup or grub. 
 Ah, yes, or swill from pest-house tub ! 
 I think at times I'd masticate 
 My revered granny's wrinkled pate ; 
 But snow-balls were the only diet 
 To keep my craving vitals quiet. 
 
68 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 I never ran on Alpine heights, 
 But in full cuts spent many nights 
 Without a smoke, without a chew, 
 Or soothing thing but snow to view. 
 Before injectors came in vogue, 
 I prayed in an Italian brogue, 
 To all the saints around the throne 
 To intercede for me alone 
 With Providence, my breath to stop. 
 Or give me rest from jacking up, 
 And melting snow, and pumping, too, 
 Some leaky, wheezy ballahoo ! 
 I'm at it yet. We have it here 
 About three months in every year. 
 There's not a chap upon this earth. 
 Thaws out from sorrow into mirth * 
 As quick as I, when sunbeams whack 
 Me squarely on my aching back. 
 Oh ! don't I love to see the grass 
 Begin to grow as on I pass ! 
 I love to note the bursting buds 
 Expand to leaves in clumps of woods. 
 And when the birds from sunny climes 
 Get here, I sparkle into rhymes ; 
 But, Colonel, bless your dear old heart, 
 
 My joy is brief, each mile I make 
 Reminds me of life's darker part, 
 
 Where hardships rnade my eyeballs ache. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 69 
 
 I'm thankful, Colonel, dearly so. 
 
 Your invite all my favor wins ; 
 And, ere I die, I'll westward go 
 
 When penance has atoned for sins ; 
 I'll visit that ''Italian clime," 
 Where you so musically rhyme — 
 It must have changed since I was there 
 Four years ago, when in despair 
 Back to these eastern skies I scud 
 From snow and sleet and Denver mud — 
 I'd like to meet once more the boys 
 With whom I've tasted thrilling joys ; 
 And ask forgiveness for the roast 
 I gave them in "Jack Regan's Ghost." 
 Good luck attend you, robust health. 
 Domestic peace, and lots of wealth ; 
 Three meals a day, with knife and fork, 
 A napkin, spoons, and rest from work, 
 To slowly masticate each meal. 
 Until, like days of youth, you'll feel 
 The stream of life with glowing fun 
 Through heart and brain and body run. 
 Good luck attend you, Colonel, dear, 
 
 And may you always run a train 
 In Colorado's atmosphere, 
 
 And never see a "hog" again. 
 
70 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 THE MOTOR MAN. 
 
 I would like to sing in a pleasing strain, 
 Yet, I fear I'll end in a sad refrain, 
 For the subtle forces of nature now 
 Are employing many a thoughtful brow, 
 In the field of progress, day and night, 
 To gather them in and hold them tight, 
 Till steam shall yield to the lightning plan. 
 And the engineer to the motor man. 
 
 Let the skeptics scoff on every hana. 
 Let them doubt when they cannot understand ; 
 But the mighty forces of steam must yield 
 To a mightier force, now scarce concealed 
 From the public view, but the gauzy veil 
 May be soon pulled off, and upon the rail 
 There will come a change in time's briefest span. 
 When we all must bow to the motor man. 
 
 When Galileo preached his creed. 
 But few of his listeners did him heed; 
 When Watts saw the lift of the kettle's lid. 
 He knew underneath there were forces hid ; 
 When Fulton first launched his tiny boat. 
 Who'd dream of the palaces now afloat? 
 And when Morse his wires o'er the house-tops 
 
 ran. 
 Who'd think of the coming motor man? 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 71 
 
 Alas, alas ! for the engineers ; 
 How their bones will bleach in a few more years 
 In the boneyards over the country wide, 
 Where we'll all be thrown, bereft of pride. 
 We may then sit down, and our cuds can chew, 
 Telling stories of days when we filled the view 
 Of the public eye, when we led the van. 
 Ere we heard a word of the motor man. 
 
 What a mass of song in my simple w^ay 
 
 I have chorused up for many a day ! 
 
 How I tickled the ribs of the engineers ! 
 
 And won pleasing smiles from their comely 
 
 dears. 
 As I sang the joys of our railway life, 
 And I pictured pains of our daily strife, 
 As we forward marched in the labor van, 
 But I cannot sing for the motor man. 
 
 I am now too old to begin anew, 
 
 I shall end my days with the engine's crew ; 
 
 For the dynamos and the Leyden jars 
 
 I no more could catch than the distant stars. 
 
 In the cabs we reigned with a swing supreme 
 
 In the glorious days of the age of steam; 
 
 We must march in a ghostly caravan 
 
 When we're crowded out by the motor man. 
 
72 SHANDV MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 A TIMELY WARNING. 
 
 I wish when my head would the pillow once 
 gain 
 For a few hours of much needed sleep. 
 That my mind would be blank, and unconscious 
 my brain, 
 Till again on the floor I would leap.; 
 T'other night as I dozed came a spook to niy bed 
 
 With a satisfied look on his puss ; 
 And he hammered this sermon right into my 
 head. 
 Making naught of an eloquent fuss : 
 
 "Arrah, Shandy, avick ! at a wonderful pace 
 
 Down the highway of life you are bent, 
 And I think ere you get to the end of your race 
 
 It is time you'd begin to repent ; 
 You have joked at St. Peter and scoffed at the 
 truths 
 
 That an orthodox Bible contains. 
 Just to gratify fools and some ignorant youths, 
 
 Who are full of more blather than brains. 
 
 "You may think it all right to have plenty of fun, 
 When you're healthy and full of conceit. 
 
 But, avick ! when you stand out in front of 
 death's gun. 
 To be knocked off the soles of vour feet. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 7Z 
 
 Mighty quick you will start up a pitiful tune 
 
 For a little while longer to stay, 
 Till you square up accounts with your conscience, 
 aroon, 
 
 Ere your body's tossed into the clay. 
 
 ''You will find it no joke when old Nick's at your 
 side 
 Calmly 'waiting the final decree 
 Of the Judge who'll condemn you in pain to 
 reside, 
 Where you've scofifed at with skeptical glee ; 
 It is better ere death to recant all the gufif 
 
 You have fired at hereafter for years. 
 Or you know in your heart that your doom will 
 be tough, 
 For the Lord hates a heretic's tears. 
 
 ''You are posted too well on what's right and 
 what's wrong 
 To be classed 'mongst the black sheep on earth, 
 xA.nd besides, you should cease in your balderdash 
 song 
 To be mixing things sacred with mirth. 
 Get you down on your knees every morning and 
 night 
 And ask God to forgive you ; if- not, 
 You will be a most sad and deplorable sight, 
 Dragged away to a region that's hot. 
 
; SHANDY MAGUIRE S tUEMS 
 
 ''When your noble old mother a long time ago 
 Taught your young feet the way they should 
 tread, 
 She felt proud of her son, that you very well 
 know, 
 For she thought in her footsteps you'd tread; 
 But you covered your tracks till she went to the 
 sky. 
 Where her pure spirit lives evermore ; 
 Thank your stars that she guards with an angelic 
 eye 
 All your wayward excursions, asthore. 
 
 ''You have many good chums in the clime where 
 I live, 
 Who would like you'd be one of our crowd. 
 We're a favorite set. We all got a reprieve 
 
 From the Lord ere the clay soiled a shroud ; 
 He remembered the heart-broken days when we 
 tried 
 To make time with old plugs on the trains 
 Sick and well, rain and shine, till the moment we 
 died 
 Overworked in necessity's chains. 
 
 "Here the caller approaches to rouse you once 
 
 more 
 For another tough day. I must go. 
 Now remen^ber the things which I told you, 
 
 asthore, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 75 
 
 When you're dragging your legs through tlic 
 snow. 
 Go to church every Sunday and fervently pray 
 
 For God's blessings to rest on your head, 
 You require them, good-bye." The spook van- 
 ished away 
 As I jumped in a sweat from the bed. 
 
 IN THE CHAIN GANG. 
 
 Have you ever heard tell, gentle reader, of men 
 
 Who have just as much freedom as sheep in a 
 pen 
 
 On our railroads today, scattered over the land ; 
 
 Who must hold themselves bound by the slight- 
 est command? 
 
 They must sleep by direction of some petty boss, 
 
 Must be beaming with smiles, mustn't ever look 
 cross. 
 
 When they're called must be ready, regardless of 
 pains. 
 
 If you haven't, then list, till I sing of the 
 "chains." 
 
 On our trunk lines a system of slavery rules. 
 Where God's creatures are handled like horses 
 
 and mules ; 
 They are called, when they're wanted, regardless 
 
 of rest, 
 
76 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Not a thought of revolt must be found in a breast 
 When an engine comes in pulHng double her 
 
 load, 
 In the charge of some crew nearly dead from the 
 
 road, 
 Up another must step, although stagnant their 
 
 brains, 
 For no mercy is shown to the men in the 
 
 "chains." 
 
 Black and greasy from duty they crawl in dis- 
 tress, 
 Without heart to respond to the welcome caress 
 Which their wives and their children in sympathy 
 
 give ; 
 All the strength they can boast is they're back 
 
 and still live. 
 Then a wash and a meal and crawl into bed, 
 Where excessive fatigue, like a mountain of lead. 
 Keeps them long without sleep, until nature at 
 
 length 
 Kindly closes their eyes to recover their strength. 
 
 Up and off when the call boy comes running 
 
 once more, 
 With his devilish thump to a poor fellow's door ; 
 Up and off, with a bucket of grub just as full 
 Of dyspepsia as ever distorted a scull ; 
 Up and off : seldom knowing the place he must 
 
 go. 
 Or how long he'll be stalled with his train in the 
 snow. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 77 
 
 But who cares for the men in the "chain gang" / 
 
 a straw? 
 They are slaves and beyond the protection of law. 
 
 I have known many fellows from beds to arise, 
 With fatigue in a circle surrounding their eyes, 
 Drag their legs to the yard to be ready. to run 
 On a pile of old scrap that a sane man would 
 
 shun ; 
 And n:ore cars in the winter piled on by some cur > 
 Of a yardmaster, too, than with "slacks" it could 
 
 stir; 
 But what cared he how long in the snowdrifts 
 
 they'd stay? 
 He was lord, and the "chain gang" his words 
 
 must obey. 
 
 May the curse of confusion light down on the 
 
 man. 
 From whose brain emanated the barbarous plan 
 Of first in and first out, on strange engines each 
 
 trip, 
 Just as odd to the crew as the ropes of a ship ; 
 If the prayers of his victims bear down on his 
 
 soul, 
 And he dead, he'll not suffer for plenty of coal. 
 A good Christian from birth till the present I've 
 
 been. 
 And may God hear their prayers and my fervent 
 
 amen. 
 
78 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 EXPERIENCE WITH A WHEEL. 
 
 The other day when leaves were sere and 
 
 autumn skies looked cold, 
 I took a notion that I'd be adventuresome and 
 
 bold; 
 My doctor made me quit my pipe, and flesh I 
 
 gained a deal. 
 To work it off my friends advised I'd learn to 
 
 ride a wheel ; 
 I into training went ; O Lord ! my first fall laid 
 
 me out; 
 And every heartless fellow 'round sent up a 
 
 lusty shout, 
 Two hundred pounds of flesh came off and blood 
 
 and bone and skin 
 Gave every indication that I'd soon be nice and 
 
 thin. 
 
 My trakiers sponged me down a bit and got me 
 
 on my feet. 
 And said I'd be a rider soon that very few could 
 
 beat ; 
 I hoisted all their taffy in and looked ahead with 
 
 glee, 
 To think of how my chums would feel all 
 
 jealous like of me. 
 Once more I in the saddle sat, a trainer on each 
 
 side, 
 I made a mighty vow I'd die or else the bike I'd 
 
 ride; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 79 
 
 Down hill they sent me with a push, I tried to 
 
 keep the road, 
 Alas ! it was the same old tune, the bike soon 
 
 spilled its load. 
 
 I rested on my elbow while I rubbed my bleeding 
 
 ear; 
 Helene Ramsay on her wheel shot by me with a 
 
 sneer, 
 She was an old time flame of mine. We never 
 
 hitched at all. 
 It gave the spiteful thing delight to see me get 
 
 the fall. 
 I summoned my remaining strength, got sponged, 
 
 and tried again. 
 My trousers in the gearing caught, it wouldn't 
 
 stand the strain, 
 I flopped just like a ton of lead, a sharp stone 
 
 'neath my back. 
 The bike all smashed in smithereens, and scat- 
 tered round the track. 
 
 I always felt a little pride that common sense I 
 
 had, 
 Not much at best, but just enough to guard me 
 
 from a fad ; 
 When did it leave me? Does the brain enjoy 
 
 perennial youth, 
 To lead the stiffening body into capers most 
 
 uncouth ? 
 
80 SHANDY MAGUIKe's POEMS 
 
 I felt I yet was in my teens, an active boy once 
 more, 
 
 And didn't heed the flight of time since happy 
 days of yore ; 
 
 ]My mouth chock full of mud and dust and trick- 
 ling streams of blood 
 
 Gave certain proof my tide of life was surely 
 past its flood. 
 
 About the house on crutches for a season I 
 
 must creep, 
 But I wouldn't mind the bruises could I only get 
 
 some sleep ; 
 I no sooner touch the pillow and oblivion on me 
 
 steals 
 Than my head becomes a race-course full of 
 
 forty million wdieels. 
 And I fancy that I'm riding and I'm tumbling 
 
 on the stones, 
 And the flesh in five pound nuggets disappears 
 
 from off my bones. 
 But a crop of blooming old fools can be gathered 
 
 every day. 
 And their foolishness uicreases with their physi- 
 cal decay. 
 
 These lines I'm scrawling in the bed. God knows 
 
 I tell no lie, 
 I'm bandaged up from head to foot 'neath Kitty's 
 
 watchful eye ; 
 I'm bruised and broken, stiff and sore, but flesh 
 
 I freely lost. 
 About a pound on every stone I left each time 
 
 I tossed, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 81 
 
 I guess I'll ''hit the pipe" once more, cigar or 
 strong cheroot, 
 
 And make them send their incense up in vol- 
 umes from my snoot ; 
 
 They never caused me pain or ache or made me 
 lose a meal. 
 
 They're better far to thaw one's flesh than any 
 blasted wheel. 
 
 MOTHER. 
 
 The dearest sound was ever sung. 
 
 Or uttered by a human tongue ; 
 
 That ever tremored through the heart, 
 
 Or stirred it in each vital part, 
 
 Is this dear name which heads my song. 
 
 And brings the yearning thoughts along 
 
 From out the tomb of buried time, 
 
 Again to briefly live in rhyme ; 
 
 This name that sounds the deepest deep. 
 
 Where filial affection sleeps. 
 
 Beloved above all other. 
 More melody a thousand fold 
 Is in its sound than ever rolled 
 From organs in cathedrals vast 
 In present time or in the past ; 
 No other tone can dim the eyes, 
 Or call up melancholy sighs, 
 
 Like the dear name of "mother." 
 
 To all who're going down life's hill, 
 What plaintive thoughts our bosoms fill ! 
 
82 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 We think of when in early youth 
 
 She'd all our fears and ailments soothe, 
 
 And in our joy she'd at our side 
 
 Expand with more than mortal pride ; 
 
 The retrospect can conjure tears, 
 
 Regardless of our scores of years ; 
 
 In fact, the older that we grow. 
 
 The more our hearts are filled with woe, 
 
 Such grief we need not smother. 
 It tells of happy days of yore, 
 When life had naught but joy in store, 
 When not a cloud bedimmed the skies 
 We looked at through our youthful eyes 
 
 'Longside a dear old mother. 
 
 Oh, here upon the verdant sod, 
 
 From nature up to nature's God 
 
 I send a wish, "that all may yet 
 
 The rugged road of life forget, 
 
 That Heaven, with all its nameless joys, 
 
 May be a place where girls and boys 
 
 Can sport like in life's early spring, 
 
 Can romp about, can laugh and sing; 
 
 And that we all may mingle there. 
 
 Bereft of every throb of care, 
 
 Without a pang to bother. 
 Our live long sport in realms of bliss, 
 Beyond the grave, away from this, 
 Where feuds and factions cannot be, 
 But where for all eternity 
 
 We'll live again with mother." 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 83 
 
 WHO'LL SING THE SONG OF LABOR? 
 
 Who'll sing the song of labor, 
 Who'll raise the grand refrain, 
 
 Our Marseillaise, 
 
 This side the seas. 
 For men of brawn and brain? 
 
 Who'll strike the anthem glorious, 
 To sing of coming days, 
 
 When all for one 
 
 Shall aim the gun, 
 And at oppression blaze? 
 
 The poet to essay it 
 
 Must know what 'tis to feel 
 
 His stomach gnaw, 
 
 'Gainst nature's law, 
 When craving for a meal. 
 
 Have scars of countless battles 
 With shovel, pick and hoe,- 
 
 From ceaseless strife. 
 
 To nurture life. 
 Amid surrounding woe. 
 
 Who'll sing the song of union, 
 With not a doubtful note, 
 
 To make men stand 
 
 In solid band. 
 With justice in each throat? 
 
84 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Then raise the hymn of glory 
 From mountain tops to sea, 
 
 That reason reigns, 
 
 And slavish chains 
 Are dropped from men who're free? 
 
 Some poet soon shall sing it, 
 The signs are in the air, 
 
 That reason's sway 
 
 Shall win the day, 
 'Gainst hunger and despair. 
 
 AN INTERNATIONAL CHALLENGE TO ANGUS 
 
 SINCLAIR, EDITOR RAILWAY AND 
 
 LOCOMOTIVE ENGINEERING. 
 
 My dear Sinclair, I hear you are riding a bike, 
 And can pedal along at a pretty good motion ; 
 Never caring how crooked or hilly's the pike, 
 If as smooth as a pond or as rough as the 
 ocean. 
 Neighbors say you enthuse like a kid of eigh- 
 teen, 
 When you're out for a spin and go recklessly 
 coasting. 
 As each evening in Orange you're gloriously 
 seen, 
 With a chip on your shoulder and head full of 
 boasting. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 85 
 
 My old friend, like yourself, I am touched with 
 conceit. 
 And astride of my wheel am considered a 
 hummer ; 
 I am limber in knee-joints, in ankles and feet, 
 As some chaps here discovered quite freely 
 this summer. 
 Over hills I have climbed, and down valleys I've 
 spun, 
 And on levels I skimmed, taking headers quite 
 often. 
 When remounted again, I'd just laugh at the fun. 
 Though my pals feared such falls would but 
 end in my coffin. 
 
 Now, my ancient old sport, we're about of an 
 age. 
 But in weight I'm much more than a two hun- 
 dred pounder. 
 You don't carry such avoirdupois, I'll engage, 
 Though at banquets and such you're a regular 
 rounder ; 
 Yet I'll waive all objections and give you a shake. 
 For a spin of ten miles on your own native 
 heather ; 
 Will you race me, acushla ! remember, no fake. 
 Will you come to the scratch till we start off 
 together ? 
 
S6 SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 It is many a day since a Scotchman I killed ; 
 You are pretty tough nuts when you enter a 
 battle. 
 I can warrant you, though, that you'll not feel 
 much chilled 
 While you're running with me, you'll be kept 
 on your mettle ; 
 I will give you my dust, and I'll give you my 
 oath, 
 That before you're a mile from the place where 
 we started. 
 Both your gills will be pale, but your tongue 
 will be loath 
 To admit you'll be beaten, played-out and 
 down-hearted. 
 
 I'll let Hill be the umpire, what more can you 
 ask? 
 Everything I'll concede, yet you'll ne'er be the 
 winner, 
 I don't think for an instant 'tis much of a task 
 To defeat you, e'en though I am but an engi- 
 neer. 
 For the honor and glory of Ireland I'll race. 
 And no breechesless Highlander can whip a 
 Paddy ; 
 I would die ere I'd let her endure such disgrace, 
 I await your acceptance, my bonnie Scotch 
 laddie. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 87 
 
 OLD PIPE, FAREWELL. 
 
 'Tis now "the witching hour of night," 
 When roaming spooks poor fellows fright; 
 While here I sit and toss with pain, 
 With bloodshot eyes and scorching brain ; 
 Because my skillful doctor said: 
 Another smoke and I'd be dead. 
 That means my pipe forevermore 
 My life to save I must give o'er. 
 
 The clergy, with an unctuous zeal, 
 
 Claim hidden things they can reveal; 
 
 They tell us all our worldly ills 
 
 Are bitter ante-mortem pills, 
 
 To purge our souls from earthly dross, 
 
 And nail our bodies to the cross. 
 
 So we eternally can shine 
 
 On angel wings, in light divine. . 
 
 There is no joy so dear to me 
 
 As my old pipe exhausting free; 
 
 My doctor says its frequent use 
 
 Exposes nerves to much abuse ; 
 
 My pastor says such pains were sent 
 
 To make me of my sins repent ; 
 
 Alas, I'm forced to bear the yoke. 
 
 But there's no heaven without a smoke. 
 
88 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Through many long eventful years 
 
 It crowned my hopes and calmed my fears 
 
 I loved amid its wreaths to doze, 
 
 And have them circle round my nose ; 
 
 I gloried in the rings I tossed 
 
 Up skyward like a clean exhaust ; 
 
 'Twas nectar, tonic, luscious, fine, 
 
 The taste of that old pipe of mine ! 
 
 My teeth concealed inside each jaw 
 
 Are sound as dentist ever saw, 
 
 I never felt them ache until 
 
 I tried my appetite to kill 
 
 For smoking ; now, oh, holy Jove ! 
 
 Each one petitions you above. 
 
 With might and main for just a whifif, 
 
 Or I'll be soon a silent stiff. 
 
 I once supposed all earthly bliss 
 Lay in a fair one's humid kiss, 
 I know I hankered, craved and prayed 
 For one of many a witching maid ; 
 But I have changed. I'd much prefer 
 To being woman's worshipper, 
 A fifteen minutes' date by far 
 With my old pipe or strong cigar. 
 
 But, hear me, boys, I'll victor be 
 Above my pipe, you all will see ; 
 Tobacco cannot knock me out. 
 Although it wrestles me about. 
 
SIIANDV MACll' ike's i'UEAlS 89 
 
 The struggle's tough, it may be long, 
 But, thank the Lord, my will is strong. 
 Old pipe, adieu, forevermore — 
 I've often said the same before. 
 
 A CYCLE SONG. 
 
 When fields will be blooming with new crops of 
 clover. 
 When birds will be singing uproariously sweet, 
 When winter, with all of its ills, will be over. 
 Together once more at the tryst, boys, we'll 
 meet ; 
 Our mettlesome horses we'll have them all ready 
 
 To give us a thirty mile spin at the least. 
 We'll mount them delighted and pedal them 
 steady 
 Through off-country sights that are really a 
 feast. 
 
 Oh, happy should be every athletic fellow. 
 
 Who loves the grand sweep of a landscape all 
 green, 
 When the sky spreads "mare's tails," and looks 
 gloriously mellow, 
 The atmosphere perfumed, his bosom serene. 
 Then off at a clip that will prove gratifying. 
 Some jovial companions all trailing behind; 
 It makes one imagine o'er earth's ills he's flying 
 With care kicked to death in some byway 
 behind. 
 
90 SHANDY MAGUIRE'S POEMS 
 
 These snowdrifts around us we'll cease to re- 
 member, 
 Our hearts shall exult in the glories of song, 
 As out in ''God's country," from May till De- 
 cember, 
 On wheels highly geared, wx'll go pedaling 
 along ! 
 We know what it is to enjoy rapid motion, 
 While speeding the railways with muscles of 
 steel, 
 But lads, the good God of our earnest devotion 
 Is ofif o'er the country astride of a wheel. 
 
 Now, here's to the days when the birds shall be 
 mating : 
 When trees shall be vocal with carols of love, 
 When pulses of health in our breasts shall be 
 beating. 
 And hearts full of thanks for our Maker above. 
 When off to the North will be gone the cold 
 weather, 
 And sunshine will burgeon the buds as we run. 
 On a thirty mile spin, all old cronies together, 
 Every one a good fellow, who worships the 
 fun. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 91 
 
 THE SWELL HEADS. 
 
 How prosperity bears like an avalanche down 
 
 On the heads of some chaps whom we know ! 
 Who were good fellows all, when the skies used 
 to frown 
 
 And their hearts were acquainted with woe ; 
 When they ran tough old mills, doing all in their 
 power 
 
 To successfully handle the trains, 
 Till promotion arrived, at an ill-fated hour, 
 
 To reward them and muddle their brains. 
 
 On the ladder's first round they grew giddy, and 
 then 
 
 Began nagging their pals without cause. 
 Piling straw after straw upon backs of good men, 
 
 As they fished for official applause. 
 Thinking they were the hubs of the universe. 
 Lord ! 
 
 Half their thoughts would take prophets to tell. 
 For they fancied their brains with ability stored, 
 
 Never thinking their heads used to swell. 
 
 The old hats which they wore in the cabs grew 
 too small 
 
 To encircle their foreheads about, 
 Never more did they smile, were not social at all, 
 
 It was always continual pout ; 
 
92 SHANDY MAGU ire's POEMS 
 
 With the grimmest disdain, with sublimest con- 
 tempt 
 We were looked upon mornmg and night, 
 There was nothing we did was from bUmder 
 exempt, 
 Not a move did we make that was right. 
 
 We had one glorious leader of whom we were 
 proud 
 For long years, somewhat over a score ; 
 In our Brotherhood ranks we hurrahed for him 
 loud, 
 And his methods we all did adore ; 
 But promotion at last found him out, and, by 
 gosh ! 
 He is now raising sulphurous — Well, 
 Once he tasted command, like a midsummer 
 squash. 
 His old head did abnormally swell. 
 
 But it is not the rule for all heads to expand 
 
 With the first step they take up the hill, 
 Many fine fellows yet keep the grasp in their 
 hand 
 
 Which they had when they ran an old mill ; 
 They're as expert as those in the companies' 
 cause 
 
 Who at good men uproariously yell. 
 Just to win from superiors fulsome applause. 
 
 Who all know that their pudding-heads swell. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 93 
 
 To my heart, my old hat ! Though Nou're bat- 
 tered and bruised, 
 
 Like my grandmother's wig in a gale, 
 None can trnthfully say that I ever enthused. 
 
 Till to circle my temples you'd fail. 
 There's a medium course for all fellows to steer, 
 
 Who in peace and contentment could dwell, 
 If they wouldn't so often skate off on their ear, 
 
 And allow their thick noodles to swell. 
 
 A NORTHLAND STRAIN. 
 
 'Tis hardly yet the time to sing 
 About the dawn of glorious spring. 
 Here as I sit I hear the breeze 
 Resounding through the leafless trees, 
 And, save the sparrows, not a bird 
 In song or note or call is heard, 
 And, gentle reader — that sounds nice- 
 The outdoor water vet is ice. 
 
 To-night the skies are overcast 
 With clouds as if the cold would last, 
 The anthracite sends forth a glow. 
 Which bids defiance to the snow ; 
 I toast my shins in slippered ease. 
 And try my dear old girl to please, 
 For when this rhyme's complete I'll glide 
 Beneath the sheets close to her side. 
 
94 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 This world would be a dreary place 
 If woman wasn't here to grace 
 The poor man's home, and cook his hash. 
 Repair his clothes and spend his cash, 
 Preach sermons if he's out at night, 
 Kick up a shindy, have a fight. 
 Most anything at all she'll choose, 
 Her saintly partner to abuse. 
 
 I truly swear, I'd rather hear 
 A minnie ball scoot by my ear, 
 Than my beloved darling tell 
 My virtues in a talking spell ; 
 I get so weary that my nose 
 I kind of hide beneath the clothes, 
 There to remain till dawn of day, 
 And let the charmer talk away. 
 
 Oh, why did Adam ever fall 
 
 To plunge in misery us all? 
 
 'Twere better have a growl with Eve, 
 
 And let her scold, shed tears and grieve ; 
 
 The snap he had he never saw, 
 
 She couldn't bundle home to ma 
 
 Whenever worsted in a snarl. 
 
 Like many a high-strung modern girl. 
 
 He ate the apple when she bade, 
 And ladies, I am much afraid 
 More Adams than the first would do 
 The very same if asked by you. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 95 
 
 You have a most bewitching style, 
 You'll try a tear and then a smile, 
 A honeyed tongue or scolding tone. 
 You'd melt a fellow made of stone. 
 
 I cleared my voice and meant to sing 
 A prelude to the opening Spring ; 
 But see to where my mind has gone, 
 It dallies round creation's dawn. 
 Where woman first her wiles began 
 To throw around poor simple man. 
 Yet, at her bidding every elf 
 Would eat an apple — or herself. 
 
 MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR. 
 
 Old Time in his chariot is speeding 
 
 His winged coursers over the sky. 
 Our birth year away is receding. 
 
 We're nearing the place where we'll lie, 
 And it may be to-day or to-morrow — 
 
 Ah ! well, I was never a seer — 
 There is no use to conjure up sorrow. 
 When frolic and mirth should be here. 
 A Christmas to all of you merry, 
 
 May tables be burdened with cheer. 
 And Fortune be kind to you very. 
 And send you a Happy New Year. 
 
96 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Give thanks to the Master for letting 
 
 Us witness a century's dawn; 
 His gifts we're too fond, of forgetting, 
 
 From mind in' an instant they're gone. 
 Come, old men and young men, together. 
 Let's send up our thanks to His Throne, 
 Then after, with hearts light as feather, 
 ril say, boys, with never a groan : 
 
 ''A Christmas right merry attend you 
 
 I pray from my bosom sincere. 
 May health and contentment befriend you, 
 And all have a Happy New Year." 
 
 Just think of the poor devils ailing. 
 
 Who have not a mouthful of bread, 
 Through night-time and day-time their wailing 
 
 Could almost be heard by the dead ; 
 While we, God be praised, are not starving, 
 
 We've all got provisions to eat. 
 And those who are skillful at carving, 
 Can slice off some choice, gamy meat. 
 Then wash it right down with a liquor 
 
 That Bacchus himself might revere. 
 That would thaw out the heart of a vicar, 
 When toasting "A Happy New Year." 
 
 Come, toss up the kids to the ceiling, 
 
 Let's romp with them all mid their toys, 
 Let laughter to roof-trees go pealing. 
 Enhancing their juvenile joys; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 97 
 
 Here, Charley and Ruth, get your forces 
 
 Together in mimic array, 
 Put spurs to your mettlesome horses, 
 I'll join in your races to-day. 
 
 We'll run out the old year forever. 
 
 And, darlings, the century too. 
 The New Year, oh, may he prove clever 
 To all of God's offspring like you. 
 
 One hundred years hence ! Holy Father ! 
 
 What foolishness enters my head, 
 To think where we'll be, I'd much rather 
 
 Say ''dear gramachree" to the bed. 
 The roosters will soon be in chorus, 
 
 Saluting the dawn near at hand. 
 Let's all greet the season before us 
 Fraternally over the land : 
 
 Come pour out "good health" in your 
 glasses, 
 From Arthur right down to me here, 
 Now shout, all ye lads and ye lasses : 
 
 ''Merry Christmas and Happy New Year." 
 
 WINSOME CHARLEY. 
 
 God's blessings on our little king, 
 Who eighteen moons has flourished ; 
 
 Who makes our humble homestead rir.g 
 With antics dearlv cherished. 
 
98 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 A chanticleer in human guise, 
 He hails the morning early ; 
 
 All sleep deserts the household eyes, 
 When up springs winsome Charley. 
 
 The bursting buds of childhood now 
 Are every moment blowing, 
 
 He drives Care's wrinkles off my brow. 
 When listening to his crowing. 
 
 His chubby hands he clasps in glee 
 When in I come, to greet me ; 
 
 All heart-corroding broodings flee 
 As with a kiss he'll meet me. 
 
 The sweetness of his nectared lips 
 I quaff, till with the feeling 
 
 Of perfect joy, my finger tips 
 Ooze bliss as 'round I'm reeling. 
 
 When climbing grades of cruel care, 
 And stalled on hills of trouble. 
 
 His presence hovers everywhere, 
 Assisting me to double. 
 
 Let those who never quaffed the bliss 
 Of childhood's flowing measures 
 
 Discredit such a song as this 
 About our household treasures. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 99 
 
 I'd take my little king and beg 
 
 The world to raise him over, 
 Though mounted on a wooden leg, 
 
 And fancy life in clover. 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 The leaves have almost left the trees, 
 The edge of frost is in the breeze ; 
 The fields of erstwhile emerald green 
 Just now a dirty brown are seen ; 
 The birds in numbers wheel and rise ; 
 To poise their wings for Southern skies. 
 There to remain until the Spring 
 Shall woo them back to mate and sing. 
 
 The caller's footsteps soon shall come 
 At mid of night to strike us dumb, 
 When with his fluent tongue he'll say : 
 "Get out the plow without delay." 
 Our weary wives, the darlings then. 
 Will growl for wedding railway men. 
 Because our hash they'll have to stow, 
 Ere back to bed again they go. 
 
 In moralizing mood we'll view 
 
 The dear old girls their duty do ; 
 
 And wonder how they've changed since when 
 
 We guzzled moonshine in the glen, 
 
 Lora 
 
100 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 And thought them saints, the charming dears, 
 Who set their caps for engineers. 
 A mighty change, there is no doubt, 
 They fill our pails and fire us out. 
 
 This is the month foul discontent 
 
 My good resolves can circumvent ; 
 
 Some days appear Hke summer still, 
 
 While others all our bones can chill. 
 
 I dearly wish with birds to go 
 
 To sunny lands, from frost and snow ; 
 
 But empty pockets make me frown, 
 
 Like chaps who spy their crown-sheets down. 
 
 Contentment and the boon of health 
 I crave it. Lord, instead of wealth ; 
 Then let the icy blizzards blow, 
 And cuts be full of driven snow ; 
 And darlings growl, and callers scream, 
 And engines ''die" for want of steam, 
 ril not repine or lot bewail, 
 But do mv best to clear the rail. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 101 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 Sing hilli ho ! bring out the drums 
 
 And make them roll ; for Christmas comes 
 
 On every shore, in every clime, 
 
 Glad people hail the Christmas time. 
 
 The rich and poor, the old and young, / 
 
 The blithe and sad in every tongue, 
 
 All feel their pulses quicker play 
 
 To welcome glorious Christmas Day. 
 
 Advancing years and whitening hair 
 The joys of Christmas always share 
 With little tots of infancy, 
 Who hail the morning with their glee. 
 The old again renew their youth, 
 And many ills they really soothe 
 In happy childhood's careless play 
 About the house on Christmas Day. 
 
 The grandsire and the grand dame greet 
 The children, who on nimble feet 
 Come running with their dolls and drums, 
 To share their joys when Christmas comes. 
 The parents' hearts are filled with bliss, 
 And lips are pressed by many a kiss. 
 By romping girls and boys, who cheer 
 Because the Christmas time is here. 
 
102 SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 Look back, poor weary, laden hearts ! 
 
 To days before the stinging smarts 
 
 Of cruel care your bosoms bled, 
 
 When from your Christmas morning bed, 
 
 On youthful feet you upward sprung 
 
 When eyes and head and limbs were young ; 
 
 Look back, with fancy flowing free. 
 
 Your childhood's happy days to see. 
 
 There's music in the morning air 
 
 When mimic drums and trumpets blare ; 
 
 Intoxicating draughts of bliss 
 
 We quaff when we our darlings kiss ! 
 
 No nectar of ambrosial brew 
 
 Was -ever found our hearts to woo , 
 
 Like happv children 'mid their toys 
 
 Relating Christmas morning's joys! 
 
 Sing hilli ho ! my two-year-old. 
 That doesn't fear the wintry cold ; 
 That greets the morning with a crow, 
 In big-eyed wonder at the snow. 
 While life is in its dawning spring, 
 Enjoy your pranks, my little king, 
 I'll fancy while we romp and play, 
 I'm young, like you, this Christmas Day. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 103 
 
 DREAMING ON A SIDING. 
 
 'Twas a beautiful night, and the "glorious orbeJ 
 
 moon" 
 Was afloat o'er the tree tops, chock full to the 
 
 muzzle. 
 And as calm as one only can find it in June, 
 When the atmosphere perfumed in lungfuls 
 you guzzle ; 
 I was switched on a siding, and lay down to rest ; 
 Ere a minute I into deep slumber went falling, 
 I supposed I was Pluto's right-bower and guest. 
 And I heard him my name like loud thunder- 
 bolts calling. 
 
 "Here, you^ majesty! Yes, I am coming. What 
 now?" 
 "Put the blower on heavy and clean out the 
 fire." 
 "Why, the temperature's hot, you yourself must 
 allow. 
 Or the gauge is a double-faced damnable liar ! 
 I will do as you say, but the heat is intense ; 
 
 My caloric protector is getting untrusty, 
 When I fire with benzine, 'tis a flimsy defense. 
 Against flame that would make Arctic oceans 
 grow dusty. 
 
 "Well, your majesty knows I will roast them, as 
 sure 
 As there's hair on a dog, or they're stretched 
 in that kettle ; 
 
104 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 For on earth they were dirty galoots to the poor, 
 And your gentle rebuke puts me now on my 
 
 mettle. 
 In this place there are mighty hot corners about, 
 'Though Bob IngersoU says we are fools to 
 
 believe it ; 
 Ricks and Taft must for epochs count beads to 
 
 get out, 
 But, my liege, while we reign the rank scoundrels 
 
 can't leave it. 
 
 '*Up above things are mixed. 'Tis the dollars 
 that talk. 
 If you're poor there is no use for justice de- 
 bating. 
 For the rich ones have tools all good efforts to 
 balk. 
 Like the two sweet gazelles in that pot I'm 
 cremating. 
 On the Ann Arbor road how they bloomed in 
 their day. 
 With the Ashleys and scabs they were high 
 cockalorums ; 
 But I kind of suspect they will now get their pay, 
 Liquid sweetness of flame they must drink in 
 full jorums. 
 
 "Should the benzine give out we have mountains 
 of coal. 
 And the sulphur I hear in this place is quite 
 handy. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 105 
 
 We're immortals you say? Then while ages 
 shall roll, 
 As a fireman in chief you will find I'm a dandy. 
 I'll be faithful to duty. I'll never forget 
 
 How they shattered our hopes when things 
 looked in our favor ; 
 So I tell you, my liege, there's a hell of a sweat 
 Now in store in return for their legal palaver. 
 
 "Here's a peep hole. Look in ! See how nicely 
 they bake ! 
 They're too green yet to burn, but they brown 
 like a berry ; 
 See old Ricks how he crisps ! To the roast he 
 don't take, 
 And see Taft looks the same as a ripe crimson 
 cherry ; 
 In a thousand years hence — " With a spring I 
 arose 
 Like a shot from a gun, my poor heart with 
 grief teeming, 
 For a wasp ran its fangs through the top of my 
 nose, 
 And destroyed all the solace I found in my 
 dreaming. 
 
106 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 YOUTHFUL FAITH. 
 
 When I was but a babbling boy, 
 A doting mother's pride and joy, 
 She taught me on my knee ^ to pray, 
 At opening and at close of day ; 
 She said that nothing would be given 
 Unless petitioned for to Heaven, 
 And that I ne'er should leave unsaid — 
 ''Give us this day our daily bread." 
 
 If bread would come I thought that I 
 As well might ask for cake and pie ; 
 I fancied that God wouldn't care 
 A fig about the bill of fare ; 
 That one was just as cheap as t'other, 
 Although 'twas playing tricks on mother 
 Who told me as I'd rise from bed 
 To ask the Lord for daily bread. 
 
 I ceased to pray for pie and cake ; 
 I thought such things God didn't bake ; 
 And that was just the reason why 
 They weren't sent me from the sky ; 
 My faith was strong ; my mother's word 
 To doubt would have been most absurd. 
 Again I followed as she led. 
 And always got my daily bread. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 107 
 
 We really had enough to eat 
 Of all the condiments with meat ; 
 And that to have it every day 
 I never should forget to pray ; 
 The years sped onward, so did I ; 
 I never failed to ask the sky, 
 Just in the manner mother said — 
 "Give us this day our daily bread." 
 
 At length I went from mother's side 
 Right out upon life's stormy tide, 
 And found a woeful change indeed ; 
 From simple faith and childish creed. 
 I found that, whether right or wrong, 
 The victory was with the strong; 
 And many trusting bosoms bled 
 In ceaseless fight for daily bread. 
 
 But yet, that good old simple prayer 
 Buoys up a man against despair. 
 If far from trusting youth he's trod, 
 It keeps him still in touch with God; 
 It tells him of a mother's Love 
 Who may have passed to joys above, 
 Out through the portals of the dead, 
 Who made him pray for daily bread. 
 
108 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 FROM THE DEPTHS IN WHICH I SUFFER. 
 
 Most merciful Lord, I implore you 
 
 To ease me from terrible pain. 
 And the rest of my life I'll adore you 
 
 While reason presides in my brain ; 
 Oh, I can't endure illness that scorches 
 
 My body with hot tertian breath ; 
 As if imps were around me with torches 
 
 And roasting me slowly to death. 
 
 I'm so hot, oh, I fear I am burning 
 
 In flues, and in firebox, and all ; 
 And I know in my cot will be mourning 
 
 The moment my crown sheet shall fall. 
 If you'll pull the fierce fires of my fever, 
 
 And let me cool down by degrees. 
 My old darling, who fears I must leave her. 
 
 Will join in my thanks on her knees. 
 
 I have jollied with death. Holy Father, 
 
 And dreamt of the region below ; 
 Where the inmates would very much rather 
 
 Be given their sentence in snow; 
 If I did, I had health and was merry, 
 
 And didn't much care what I said ; 
 But, dear Lord, steer me clear of the ferry 
 
 That floats o'er the Stvx when I'm dead. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 109 
 
 Here comes Kill Quick again for the money 
 
 He'll charge just to glance in my eyes; 
 But for suffering, I'd really feel funny, 
 
 To see him observe me so wise ! 
 For my pulse and my tongue he'll examine, 
 
 And never a word will he speak ; 
 He's been stuffing me full of such gammon 
 
 Just three times a day for a week. 
 
 Now, dear Lord, hear my humble petition, 
 
 Restore me to duty once more ; 
 And I'll fire out my hateful physician 
 
 The next time he enters my door. 
 I am poisoned by nauseous effusions 
 
 He measures me out on a spoon ; 
 Knock to smash all his senseless delusions, 
 
 And give back' my health to me soon. 
 
 Think of all the bright eyes will be weeping* 
 
 When off the last gasp of my breath 
 Through my lips will be furiously leaping 
 
 And leaving me silent in death ! 
 There's a long time to lie 'neath the grasses ; 
 
 And for twenty years more at the best. 
 Let me stay with the lads and the lassies, 
 
 Ere you take my poor soul to its rest. 
 
110 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 HIS CREED. 
 
 Your pardon, sir, my humble voice 
 
 I am constrained to raise : 
 "That man hved as he did from choice, 
 
 He doesn't need your praise. 
 His obsequies you celebrate, 
 
 His living kin to please ; 
 But don't say words of love or hate 
 
 Proportioned to your fees. 
 He's past that great tribunal where 
 
 A mortal could not hear 
 The judgment of his Maker there. 
 
 Don't slander o'er his bier. 
 'Tis true, he wasn't tied to creed, 
 
 His whole belief was broad, 
 'Twas traced in many a noble deed, 
 
 And never built on fraud. 
 He didn't roll his eyes aloft, 
 
 Nor pray in church aloud, 
 Nor chorus hymns in accents soft 
 
 Amongst a singing crowd ; 
 We know he didn't rent a pew, 
 
 Nor teach a class of boys. 
 How holy men on earth should do 
 
 To taste of heaven's joys; 
 In fact, he wasn't orthodox, 
 
 But, heaven be his bed, 
 His doors contained no bolts or locks 
 
 When people needed bread. 
 No sanctimonious sneak he was 
 
 To lead the choir in song; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 11 
 
 He never violated laws. 
 
 Nor countenanced a wrong. 
 The poor and needy loved him well, 
 
 And many an eye was wxt, 
 And many a breast with grief did swell, 
 
 When he paid nature's debt. 
 
 'He didn't trumpet loud his acts 
 
 In paragraphs of type, 
 Nor deal the hungry pious tracts, 
 
 To soothe each gnawing gripe. 
 But, on the contrary, he'd give 
 
 His largess here and there 
 To help unfortunates to live, 
 
 Instead of giving prayer. 
 In nature's temple oft he stood 
 
 Upon the verdant sod. 
 And preached a human brotherhood, 
 
 And told us of a God. 
 Away above the azure dome 
 
 He looked at o'er his head, 
 Who'd welcome us poor toilers home 
 
 The moment we were dead. 
 
 'Such was his creed and here above 
 
 My silent comrade's bier, 
 I pay this tribute of my love, 
 
 'Mid many a falling tear. 
 I of our Father humbly pray, 
 
 When earthly sight is dim, 
 To let me after judgment stay 
 
 Eternallv with him." 
 
112 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 A JUNE MORNING. 
 
 How beautiful looks the green of the grass, 
 
 And bright is the sheen of the fountains, 
 The foliage bends to salute as we pass, 
 
 And away loom the emerald mountains ; 
 Old Nature is out in her fairest array. 
 
 No pen can describe her adorning. 
 She's lavish in gems which she strews by the way 
 
 To observers at five in the morning. 
 
 The birds are about with their ravishing notes. 
 
 The bees are a-wing in the bowers. 
 The perfume is dense as around us it floats 
 
 From the many-hued heads of the flowers ; 
 Not a cloud to disfigure the blue of the sky, 
 
 Or of changeable air to give warning, 
 E'en the sun looks aslant with a rollicking eye, 
 
 As he rises ere five in the morning. 
 
 What a beautiful sight for mankind to behold. 
 
 How our hearts should be lifted to heaven, 
 When such wonderful views are around us un- 
 rolled 
 
 Which the Master to bless us has given ! 
 Nature's God is supreme, and in June at his best, 
 
 In His temple should be no suborning, 
 But Te Deiims should fill to the fullest each 
 breast. 
 
 Looking 'round us at five in the morning. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 113 
 
 When the sleep is completely knocked out of 
 one's head, 
 
 From strides which he makes to his duty, 
 He can get nearer God than when lying in bed. 
 
 For his heart is aglow with the beauty 
 Of river and mountain, of valley and hill. 
 
 Where Nature holds art up to scorning; 
 At that fountain we all can indulge to our fill, 
 
 Out in God's house at five in the morning. 
 
 JOHN BURNS, ENGLISH LABOR LEALEH. 
 
 [ dearly love your native land, 
 
 I also love your name ; 
 The first has hills and valleys grand, 
 
 The last is known to fame ; 
 And for the sake of both Fd like ^ 
 
 To sing a song of praise. 
 But, John, 1 fear a snag you'll strike, 
 
 Ere I conclude these lays. 
 
 We felt we had an honored guest. 
 
 When first you reached our shores ; 
 And from our East to distant West 
 
 You found our open doors. 
 But soon your tongue began to wag 
 
 A plagued sight too loud. 
 Chock-full of trans-Atlantic brag, 
 
 Among each Yankee crowd. 
 
114 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 ''Our institutions didn't please," 
 
 "Our land is full of ills," 
 "Our cities teeming with disease 
 
 That lowly manhood kills." 
 You said, and also added, John, 
 
 "Our labor leaders failed 
 To lead their skilled battalions on » 
 
 To strengthen those assailed." 
 
 Admitted, all. The truth you told 
 
 In language sharp and pat, 
 But, John, you really shouldn't scold, 
 
 Or blather through your hat ; 
 We've natives here of every land, 
 
 In labor's ranks today, 
 And each one loudly does demand 
 
 To have his own sweet way. 
 
 We've English, Irish, French, and Dutch, 
 
 Italians, Portuguese, 
 We've Huns and Russians, Turks and such. 
 
 Brought here on every breeze ; 
 We've Yankees, Scotch, Canucks, and Poles, 
 
 Chinese, and Negroes black, 
 Their leaders' bodies and their souls 
 
 To keep upon the rack. 
 
 Each one has notions of his own 
 
 Of how and when to fight, 
 :\nd no one but the Lord alone 
 
 Could all the mass unite. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 115 
 
 Two peoples, John, or three at most, 
 
 Are all you ever led. 
 Remember that when next you boast 
 
 About vour level head. 
 
 ON THE BACK-TRACK. 
 
 T'other day to the back-track I went for a stroll, 
 
 Where the cripples are stretched in a row, 
 And my feelings I soon found I couldn't control. 
 
 They went back to a long time ago ; 
 I recalled the bright day when my pulses were 
 young. 
 
 And all Nature looked lovely to me ; 
 When I tossed the black ash amid frolic and song 
 
 A.S I gazed upon old Number Three. 
 
 There she lay many years m the sun and the sleet. 
 
 Full of rust and a wreck on the track ; 
 And I thought of the time when she looked so 
 complete. 
 
 From the rails to the rim of her stack ; 
 When her sand-box and domes and her bands 
 were as bright 
 
 As my muscle could make them, alas ! 
 'Tis no wonder a moisture obstructed my sight, 
 
 Tho' I never took kindlv to brass. 
 
116 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 She would make as much noise as a mogul today 
 
 Taking three or four cars up a hill, 
 And she chewed up the blocks in a gluttonous 
 way, 
 
 Well I think of her appetite still ; 
 It was muscle and youth against iron and steam, 
 
 And while making our trips I am sure 
 I was victor, but had little leisure to dream, 
 
 Tossing nail-rod right in through the door. 
 
 How I'd jump on the seat when a station I'd near 
 
 So spectators would think me a king. 
 Who had nothing to do ; and how slyly I'd peer 
 
 Through the crowd as the bell I would ring. 
 Till a pair of bright eyes would be centered on 
 mine, 
 
 Then my songs would resound full of glee ! 
 Oh, I cared not a straw for the length of the 
 line, 
 
 If the charmer but smiled upon me. 
 
 What a change on the rail since that long ago 
 time ! 
 
 And, alas! what a change in myself! 
 Like old Three, and as sure as I tell it in rhyme, 
 
 In a few years at best, on the shelf 
 I'll be laid up to rust, with my usefulness gone, 
 
 'Tis a fate that is waiting us all. 
 Let us hope, when our labor of life is all done, 
 
 We'll be ready to move at the call. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 117 
 
 TO THE AMALGAMATED ASSOCIATION OF 
 
 ENGINEERS AND FIREMEN, GREAT 
 
 BRITAIN. 
 
 Dear Brothers away o'er the ocean, 
 
 Here's at you with hearty good will; 
 We greet you with earnest devotion 
 
 Today from the end of my quill. 
 By right of our dire occupation, 
 
 And way that w^e toil for our bread, 
 A kinship we claim 'twixt each nation, 
 
 Regardless of flags overhead. 
 
 You, too, like ourselves, had your crosses 
 To carry each hour on the track ; 
 
 You're scourged by unsatisfied bosses, 
 Who doubled the load on each back. 
 
 You've won great redress through your order ; 
 We're with you in heart and in soul 
 
 Today o'er this hemisphere's border, 
 
 . From tropic lands up to the pole. 
 
 In days of old times, disunited, 
 
 We gulped down big bumpers of woe. 
 But since we in union are plighted. 
 
 Like youthful game roosters w^e crow ! 
 The lords of the rail, we uncrowned them ; 
 
 No longer they kick us with glee; 
 Our Brotherhoods carefully bound them, 
 
 And now they're as meek as can be. 
 
118 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Our President also respects us, 
 
 Our leaders he'd lately to dine, 
 And had them explain our prospectus, 
 
 Before him this side of the brine ; 
 A few years ago would he do it? 
 
 ''I guess not, says Con," not at all, 
 Put that in your mouth, boys, and chew it. 
 
 Now wide go the doors when w^e call. 
 
 For justice we're shoulder to shoulder, 
 
 And mind you, dear lads, when we're right, 
 A friend we've in every beholder 
 
 The moment we enter a fight ; 
 Old tyrants, who used to distress us. 
 
 Like Saul, in their hearts had a change. 
 But now the dear fellows caress us, 
 
 And treat us most civilly strange. 
 
 Although you're yon side of old ocean, 
 
 We hail you as Brothers e'en there. 
 And pledge you our earnest devotion. 
 
 And ask that the same we may share. 
 You'll find, boys, the hands we extend you 
 
 Shall never feel flabby to wag. 
 And may be they'll close to defend you, 
 
 If danger e'er threatens your flag. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 119 
 
 A aUEEN OF HEARTS. 
 
 Last night, as I sat in the gloaming, 
 
 'Long side of a charming young girl. 
 Who kept me from carelessly roaming, 
 
 Indeed I was proud as an earl ; 
 I gazed on the beauty beside me, 
 
 I toyed with her long golden hair, 
 She frowned not, nor yet did she chide me. 
 
 As close — very close — we sat there. 
 
 ''Oh, angel," I whispered, ''sweet maiden ! 
 
 Oh, Peri from Paradise, say ! 
 Art thou with God's gift sent me laden. 
 
 To soothe and console me today ? 
 I feel Pm supremest of mortals, 
 
 A-swoon with humanity's bliss ; 
 Proud day that I entered life's portals 
 
 To revel in pleasure like this ! 
 
 "Thy eyes take me back to life's morning, 
 
 When hope in my breast was aglow, 
 These curls here, thy shoulders adorning, 
 
 Remind me of dear long ago ! 
 Thy features, thy grace, and thy stature 
 
 Are all like a dream of the past ; 
 They tell me an idolized creature 
 
 In mold such as thine had been cast." 
 
120 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 She smiled, and a mouthful of pearls 
 
 Through crimson-clad lips met my gaze, 
 No wonder such beautiful girls 
 
 Can keep a man's heart in a blaze ! 
 Up close in my arms there I caught her, 
 
 She rested her cheek against mine, 
 With never a doubt then I thought her 
 
 Immortal, of lineage divine ! 
 
 ."Now kiss me. That's sweet! Now another, 
 
 A dozen, a score all in one ! 
 They're nectared, Great Glory! I'll smother! 
 
 What ! all such sweet kisses are gone ? 
 Oh, saint ! Can I bribe thee to squander 
 
 One more of ambrosia sublime?" 
 Tss gandpa," she cooed, growing fonder, 
 
 "If first oo'l please gimme a dime." 
 
 A WINTRY NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 With weary limbs and aching head. 
 Last night I sought my welcome bed 
 
 To get some hours of sleep; 
 And scarcely was I 'neath the clothes, 
 When music issued from my nose, 
 
 In slumber loud and deep. 
 
 Fond visions floated o'er my brain, 
 Dispelling every earthly pain 
 I ever felt or knew ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIKE's POEMS 12 
 
 I thought I was in verdant groves, 
 Surrounded by angeHc loves 
 
 Who waltzed before my view. 
 
 Enchanting nymphs in loveliness, 
 On every hand, in gala dress. 
 
 Surprised my wondering gaze. 
 The atmosphere incensed my lungs, 
 And melody from silvery tongues^ 
 
 My senses did amaze. 
 
 A maid, majestic as a fawn, 
 
 Came tripping o'er the flowery lawn 
 
 Until she reached my side. 
 With languid glances there she stood, 
 A perfect type of womanhood. 
 
 In all her beauty's pride. 
 
 With honeyed tongue and heaving breast. 
 Melodiously she thus addressed 
 
 These few brief words to me : 
 "You're welcome, stranger, to our dell ; 
 Whence came you ? By what magic spell 
 
 A mortal here I see?" 
 
 She paused, alas ! and so did I, 
 For how to make her some reply. 
 
 But vainly I essayed. 
 Until she pressed her lips to mine 
 And thrilled me like rich nectared wine, 
 
 I then addressed this maid : 
 
122 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 "Indeed, my love, I hardly know, 
 It is a place where frost and snow. 
 
 And sleet and pelting rain 
 Have often drove me nearly mad. 
 With many another hearty lad, 
 
 On both ends of a train. 
 
 ''And how I gained this glorious clime 
 Where everything appears sublime, 
 
 I really do not know ; 
 It must be heaven. Your luscious kiss 
 Convinces me such perfect bliss 
 
 Was never known below. 
 
 'Tve heard my good old pastor say, 
 On many a long gone Sabbath day. 
 
 With tear drops in his eye, 
 That if I didn't mend my tricks, 
 Old Charon, in the river Styx, 
 
 Would souse me when I'd die. 
 
 ''He often told me to repent 
 
 And keep the fast the whole of Lent, 
 
 I didn't heed him much. 
 Now here in realms of pure delight 
 I'm safe at last, my angel bright, 
 
 And free from Satan's clutch. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 123 
 
 "I've strolled beneath a full orbed moon 
 Full many a nig-ht in balmy June, 
 
 With many a melting' maid ; 
 But never have I felt before 
 Such rapture in my bosom's core 
 
 As in this leafy glade. 
 
 "Your crimson lips that I have pressed 
 Are just the kind to be caressed, 
 
 They're humid, ripe and sweet. 
 Here let me stay till Gabriel's horn 
 Proclaims the resurrection morn, 
 
 In rapture at your feet. 
 
 "Your slave I'll be. We'll seal the bond 
 Of serfdom in affection fond. 
 
 And lingering embrace. 
 Ecstatic feelings fill my breast 
 Because I am your honored guest 
 
 In this delightful place." 
 
 I stretched my arms in supreme bliss, 
 To clasp her for another kiss. 
 
 And heard a piercing scream ; 
 It seems my elbow, in the eye. 
 Punched Kitty, who began to cry. 
 
 And roused me from my dream. 
 
124 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 THE DAY WE CELEBRATE. 
 
 Twas a glorious sight to witness all the stalwart 
 
 sons of toil 
 Keeping step to martial music, and unstained by 
 
 labor's moil, 
 Side by side, in big battalions, heads erect, a 
 
 mighty throng, 
 Pledged to plead or fight for justice, and redress 
 
 each grievous wrong. 
 There enfranchised, limbs all chainless, in a great 
 
 fraternal crowd. 
 Marched our city's brawn and sinew, while each 
 
 heart was pulsing proud ; 
 Proud to know that day was dawning for the 
 
 masses o'er the earth, 
 And our townsmen, always loyal, marched to 
 
 celebrate its birth. 
 
 Out of workshops, from the forges, and from 
 every mart of trade, 
 
 Came the crowds, our friends and neighbors, in 
 their richest garbs arrayed ; 
 
 Some were gray-beards, all were stalwarts, there 
 wxre smooth-faced lads as well. 
 
 We saluted as they passed up with a great frater- 
 nal yell ! 
 
 Every throat was full of cheering when we saw 
 that grand array, 
 
 Keeping step with step — God bless them — o'er 
 our streets on Labor Day. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 12£ 
 
 And we thrilled enthusiastic, and we sent our 
 
 shouts on high. 
 As we saw that greatest gathering ever 'neath 
 
 Oswego's sky. 
 
 Oh, my boys, past times remember, when the dol- 
 lars marked the days, 
 
 When expostulation failed us such starvation 
 pay to raise. 
 
 We were helpless, disunited, while our man- 
 hood's strength we gave, 
 
 Weary from long hours of labor, not a hope, 
 save for the grave ; 
 
 On the Sabbath, men would tell us hov\^ God 
 loved the starving poor, 
 
 And choice bills of fare would greet us, once St. 
 Peter oped his door. 
 
 That w^hile rich men ne'er could face him, we'd 
 be sure of harps and wings. 
 
 And through never-ending ages could wear 
 crowns like earthly kings. 
 
 Education made us doubtful of sky-pilot pulpit- 
 eers, 
 
 And their pleasing joys post mortem, which they 
 fed us on for years. 
 
 As substantial as wind pudding to our craving 
 breasts they were, 
 
 We just longed for food more solid than moon- 
 made celestial air. 
 
126 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Then we reasoned all together, we debated much 
 
 at length, 
 And resolved to be united, and for justice wield 
 
 our strength ; 
 Many sighs to smiles were altered, grief we 
 
 changed to spells of mirth. 
 And we've pie and cake and beefsteak very often 
 
 now on earth. 
 
 Well, I know what toil is, Brothers, take the 
 
 hand this pencil guides, 
 It was calloused oft and blistered, caused by 
 
 working double tides ; 
 I'm no stranger to the workshops, nor the mer- 
 cantile marine. 
 Nor the railroads, nor the forges, where the men 
 
 of brawn are seen, 
 And I crave a moment's patience, while I say a 
 
 word or two. 
 Couched in garb of sincere friendship, in your 
 
 glorious prime, to you. 
 While you pulse with strength gigantic, and no 
 
 mortal foe you fear. 
 Bear with patience what I'm saying, for I love 
 
 the cause most dear. 
 
 ''Give and take," be that your motto, let no dema- 
 gogues be found. 
 
 Those pernicious agitators that are spread the 
 country 'round. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 127 
 
 Who enthrone themselves our leaders, walking 
 
 delegates, and those, 
 Who with fluent tongues keep blating 'mongst 
 
 employers, making foes. 
 Sort them out, }ou do not need them while 
 
 you've reason on her throne, 
 Or they'll give you trouble plenty that will surely 
 
 make you groan ; 
 Thirty years' experience teaches in the ranks 
 
 where I have stood 
 That such mouth-almighty workers are the bane 
 
 of brotherhood." 
 
 But away with every phantom that around me 
 seems to rise. 
 
 And all hail ye sons of labor, whom we've wit- 
 nessed wdth our eyes ; 
 
 How the brazen trumpets sounded thrilling notes 
 of martial glee ! 
 
 And the measured tread denoted men determined 
 to be free ! 
 
 Not a thing to mar the pleasure of the day we 
 dearly love ! 
 
 E'en the sun sent down his greeting from his dis- 
 tant heights above, 
 
 And from hearts of exultation, as we saw the 
 grand display, 
 
 Poured sincere congratulations for Oswego's 
 Labor Day. 
 
128 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 CELESTIAL ASPIRATIONS. 
 
 There's a feelint^ more than mortal 
 
 Deep in every bosom lying 
 That beyond the misereres 
 
 Chanted o'er us at the tomb 
 There's a life in lands supernal, 
 
 Where no more we'll hear of dying, 
 Far beyond all human ailing, 
 
 Where celestial pleasures bloom. 
 
 We can reach those glorious regions 
 
 Of post-mortem expectations, 
 If we tread the road courageous 
 
 From young manhood to the grave 
 If we nobly fight life's battle, 
 
 In despite of all vexations. 
 When imbued with perseverance, 
 
 And the courage of the brave. 
 
 Out and oil beyond the borders 
 
 Of all human creeds there's glory 
 For the man who loves his brother, 
 
 And will take him by the hand ; 
 He need never fear and tremble 
 
 When he hears memento mori, 
 For he'll stroll in leafy arches 
 
 Of the glorious Promised Land. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS , 129 
 
 Who could walk in nature's temple 
 
 And deny a great Creator 
 On a balmy summer evening 
 
 Under skies of middle June? 
 And the star-bespangled heavens 
 
 Would enrapture a spectator, 
 And he'd glow with adoration 
 
 In the fullness of the moon ! 
 
 There's a creed that's universal ' 
 
 Recognizing men as brothers 
 Till life's pilgrimage is over. 
 
 And we're laid beneath the sod ; 
 It would fain unite fraternal 
 
 All the followers of others. 
 Till one common rule should guide us 
 
 To the fatherhood of God. 
 
 With a fervent Christian feeling 
 
 That we all may see the splendor 
 Of Omnipotence eternal 
 
 We should ever humbly pray, 
 Unconfined by creeds or churches, 
 
 Where in concert we can render 
 Songs of ceaseless adoration 
 
 Through the realms of endless day. 
 
130 SHANDY 'mAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 THE ISLE OF DREAMS. 
 
 I know a ship, as fine a craft 
 As ever was modeled fore and aft, 
 Aloft, alow, in every part 
 She captivates a sailor's heart; 
 Diurnal trips she makes to sea 
 Before stiff breezes blowing free ; 
 Bright moonlight on the water gleams 
 To light her to the Isle of Dreams. 
 
 No sooner is the gang plank in 
 Than working ship it does begin, 
 To masthead high goes every sail, 
 To drive her on before the gale ; 
 Then gear is coiled and decks are cleared, 
 And by the stars the course is steered. 
 To where unending pleasure teems. 
 Upon the Isle of Pleasant Dreams. 
 
 You're certain to fling off the years 
 Accumulated through your tears ; 
 Once more at girl of boyhood's noon 
 You'll hear the birds of glorious tune ; 
 The crowfeet and the turkey-tracks 
 The wrinkled brows, the aching backs. 
 And brawny hands, with calloused seams, 
 All shun the Isle of Pleasant Dreams, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 131 
 
 The violin, with music sweet, 
 Puts motion in rheumatic feet; 
 The thrilhng clasp of "all hands round," 
 Is circled there on magic ground. 
 Bewitching girls you'll find in sooth, 
 Their bosoms are the homes of truth. 
 Through faithful hearts their lifeblood teems. 
 Met only on that Isle of Dreams. 
 
 ''Land ho!" Dear Lord in Heaven above. 
 That sounds the slogan-blast of love ! 
 Because it tells of purest joy 
 Awaiting every girl and boy, 
 When once w^e touch the sacred soil, 
 Unknown to plowshare or to moil, 
 Where meadows and translucent streams 
 Adorn the Isle of Pleasant Dreams. 
 
 Come join us all, ye weary men, 
 Poor victims of "what might have been," 
 Toss overside the rascal, Care, 
 And breathe the rich ambrosial air ; 
 Come join our sets of dancers gay. 
 Until the dawn of coming day, 
 Where Pleasure musically screams 
 A welcome to that Isle of Dreams. 
 
132 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 THE ENGINEMAN'S FAREWELL. 
 
 [He can put an air to it himself to suit his feelings 
 toward the Pooling Plan.] 
 
 Ah ! fare you well ! my girl, you've got to leave 
 me, 
 We've been some time together, and we've had 
 our joys and woes, 
 At last has come the parting, and sadly does it 
 grieve me, 
 The nearer is the moment more intense my 
 anguish grows. 
 Ah ! fare you well ! companionship is over, 
 
 Now you with other fellows will go running 
 far away, 
 There's pain beyond expression in the bosom of 
 your lover. 
 As. he gathers up his trinkets and takes leave 
 of you today. 
 
 Ah ! fare you well ! There's bitter grief before 
 us, 
 I'll have to take a stranger that I nothing 
 know about; 
 Never, nevermore will be heard the song and 
 chorus. 
 That we two joined in together, and melod- 
 iously did shout ! 
 You will also take to fretting, you'll be filled 
 with desolation. 
 When a fellow unacquainted runs you roughly 
 on the track : 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 133 
 
 He will make you drop down weary, far away 
 from any station, 
 Without either fog or flame-sparks rolUng 
 outward from the stack. 
 
 Ah ! fare you well ! No more I'll whistle gaily, 
 To tell my other girl I am coming back to 
 town, 
 How she'd read the variations I'd keep tooting 
 to her daily ! 
 She'd acknowledge them with hand-waves all 
 my happiness to crown ! 
 She would toss you smiles and kisses once her 
 brilliant eyes would sight you 
 Gliding in a graceful manner like a princess 
 o'er the rail. 
 And it seemed such recognition would encourage 
 and delight you. 
 For you tossed the miles with pleasure as you 
 sped by hill and dale. 
 
 Ah ! fare you well ! New times are now upon us, 
 Your cleanliness will vanish and your joints 
 will rattle loose, 
 We'll be only tramps hereafter, and all decent 
 folk will shun us. 
 For our masters they are running old-time 
 methods to the deuce. 
 
134 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Oh ! it used to be "my engine" in the days now 
 gone forever, 
 You were sweetheart, wife and mother and you 
 kept my heart aglow. 
 But seducers have divorced us, and all sentiment 
 did sever, 
 Now we're parted, love, we're parted, and my 
 breast is filled with woe. 
 
 THE TOILER'S ORISON. 
 
 Dear Lord, in Thy mercy protect us. 
 
 And save us from danger and dread, 
 Do not out of Heaven reject us. 
 
 When judging us after we're dead. 
 WeVe suffered from heartaches and crosces 
 
 Full many long toil-burdened years, 
 Our gains they were small, but our losses 
 
 From stones would extract briny tears. 
 
 Thou knowest our hearts ! They have often 
 Been smashed into small smithereens. 
 
 And daily we've wished in our coffin 
 
 To stretch since we stepped from our teens. 
 
 There isn't much joy here in living, 
 For hourly"tis "root hog or die," 
 
 Perhaps 'tis Thy wisdom is giving 
 
 Us penance e'er called to the sky. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 135 
 
 Most clergymen preach that fierce fires 
 Are belching to sizzle our souls, 
 
 And scorch out our sinful desires 
 
 With mountains of anthracite coals, 
 
 Because we have not grown bald-headed 
 In churches, where dampness prevails, 
 
 'Tis little they know how we're wedded 
 To Hell, we who toil on the rails. 
 
 While they act as if they'd be given 
 
 Through passes, the moment of death. 
 In vestibuled sleepers to Heaven, 
 
 When once they're deprived of their breath ; 
 But Lord! we implore, don't forget us 
 
 Who furnish the pew rent when called ; 
 A box car will do if Thou'lt let us 
 
 Pile in, to be Heavenward hauled. 
 
 We've faith in Thy goodness, Thou'lt never 
 
 Deny us Thy features to see, 
 Or fire us to Limbo forever. 
 
 For not hourly nagging at Thee. 
 Thou Great Architect of creation ! 
 
 Poor toilers Thy mercy Thou'lt show, 
 Who've faithfully filled every station 
 
 In sunshine and mountains of snow. 
 
136 SHANDY MAGU ire's POEMS 
 
 ONE HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW. 
 
 I often wonder where we'll be 
 
 One hundred years from now ; 
 Or if we shall have eyes to see 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 These questions fill my doubting mind, 
 
 Till reason is completely blind, 
 
 To know just where ourselves we'll find 
 
 One hundred vears from now. 
 
 Perhaps we'll not feel half so blue 
 
 One hundred }'ears from now, 
 As those who sit and pine and stew. 
 
 One hundred years from now ; 
 Who scourge theniiselves with hourly groans, 
 Who make the air resound with moans. 
 For God to save their sinful bones. 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 ^Ve slaves on railway track may know 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 We can't have keener pangs of woe 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 If there's a place beyond the tomb, 
 Without one ray to lift the gloom. 
 E'en there the change will make us bloom 
 One hundred vears from now. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 137 
 
 My darling girl says, I'll be lost 
 
 One hundred years from now 
 And stand in need of Greenland's frost 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 My pastor, too — God bless his soul — 
 Says I shall not require much coal, 
 Though perched upon the Arctic pole. 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 Dear ladies, all your witching charms 
 One hundred years from now, 
 
 Won't count for much in manly arms 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 When flesh and blood shall melt away 
 
 In unappreciative clay ; 
 
 You'll sigh for joys you have today 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 I fear some chaps will sigh for snow 
 One hundred years from now, 
 
 And wish for icy blasts to blow 
 
 One hundred years from now ; 
 
 If Scriptures tell one-half the tale 
 
 'Twill take a mighty furious gale 
 
 To cool some play boys of the rail 
 One hundred }'ears from now. 
 
 Perhaps beneath a full orbed moon 
 One hundred years from now, 
 
 We'll float in air like balmy June 
 One hundred years from now, 
 
138 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 And sport 'mid friends we've parted here 
 With many a bitter, heartfelt tear 
 To see their Hfe's hght disappear, 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 Ah, well, the mystic veil keeps hid 
 One hundred years from now, 
 As also does the casket's lid 
 
 One hundred years from now ; 
 In God's great wisdom we'll abide, 
 'Twill float us over Jordan's tide. 
 To bloom on His celestial side 
 
 One hundred years from now. 
 
 ''THE GOOD OLD DAYS." 
 
 When first I went to throwing blocks, 'twas in 
 
 "the good old days ;" 
 And, oh, dear Lord, the furnace door did often 
 
 me amaze ! 
 It was so small, and down so low, one inch above 
 
 the deck. 
 It made my hands a mass of sores, and made of 
 
 me a wreck. 
 I'd pile them up, the sawed ends out, then swing 
 
 the door with speed, 
 And everyone would bear the trace of how my 
 
 hands would bleed ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 139 
 
 The slivers like a hedgehog's back my tender 
 
 fingers tore, 
 When first I went to throwing blocks, along in 
 
 sixty-four. 
 
 My limbs were kinked from stooping down, my 
 knees were swelled with pain. 
 
 My back was stifT enough to break, so fearful 
 was the strain ; 
 
 Blood-blisters grew so thick upon my knuckles, 
 fingers, thumbs, 
 
 They looked just like a pudding stuiTed with ripe 
 and juicy plums ! 
 
 Court plaster by the yard I bought and kept it in 
 the cab, 
 
 Cut up in strips to paste upon each freshly bleed- 
 ing scab ; 
 
 Tobacco juice and sturdy quids were also plas- 
 tered o'er 
 
 The gaping gashes which were made with blocks 
 in sixty-four. 
 
 Right soon I learned to know the grades we had 
 
 upon the line ; 
 Black ash and hemlock, birch and spruce, wet 
 
 cedar, elm and pine. 
 Had not the substance to endure the nozzle's 
 
 ceaseless call ; 
 'Twas "deck and throw and deck and throw," 
 
 thev always seemed to bawl ! 
 
140 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Until my eyes I'd open wide, and straighten up 
 
 my back 
 To see if every block I'd throw was fleeing from 
 
 the stack ! 
 But nothing, save a cloud of sparks, departing 
 
 in a roar, 
 Could I behold in those old days of long gone 
 
 sixty-four. 
 
 But then I was a fireman bold, besides both blithe 
 and young. 
 
 An awkward lad, and didn't care just how the 
 door I swung. 
 
 As long as I could send them home, right up 
 against the flues, 
 
 To satisfy his royal nibs that on the seat would 
 snooze. 
 
 The lever in the corner down between his lazy 
 legs, 
 
 Without a thought of how I stood upon my pain- 
 ful pegs. 
 
 When every bark the engine made seemed 
 screaming ''give me more," 
 
 Until I'd hint to hook her up, in eighteen sixty- 
 four. 
 
 How gleefully I'd jump upon the seat with smil- 
 ing face, 
 
 When to a station we would come, a well known 
 form to trace ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 141 
 
 And if the charmer I'd espy among the staring- 
 crowd, 
 
 Oh, gracious! how my lieart would jump, an.l 
 then I'd feel so proud. 
 
 In measured tones to strike the bell I'd pauce il 
 in the yoke. 
 
 Until the tongue, at every toll, a mystic language 
 spoke, 
 
 Unknown to all but just ourselves, that one I diJ 
 adore. 
 
 Who bled my heart just like my hands in June, 
 of sixty- four. 
 
 Then when our daily trips were made and in the 
 
 roundhouse stowed, 
 I suffered more a hundred fold than out upon the 
 
 road ! 
 The acid scorched my very brain, and often made 
 
 me dumb. 
 Until I thought old Beelzebub had me in king- 
 dom come. 
 The way 'twould run through every gash, when 
 
 polishing the brass ! 
 'Twould bite just like a devil's tooth the lacerated 
 
 mass 
 Of scabs, that spoke with gaping lips, till blood 
 
 from every pore 
 Ran down upon each spot I'd rub, in eighteen 
 
 sixty-four. 
 
142 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Oh, yes, "those were the good old days," I've 
 
 heard old fogies say ; 
 The devil a much they ever toiled in my labor- 
 ious way, 
 For if they did they'd surely have another tale to 
 
 tell; ' 
 They'd shun such reminiscent talk the same as 
 
 shunning hell ! 
 Give me the slash-bar, hook and scoop, likewise 
 
 a tank of coal. 
 Besides, the beautiful black crooks which on our 
 
 railways roll 
 They're good enough to sing about. I'll never 
 
 once deplore 
 The brassy brutes, which ruled the roost, in 
 
 eighteen sixty-four. 
 
 DYSPEPTIC DELUSIONS. 
 
 When heavy beads of weary toil 
 Made heart and brain and body boil. 
 
 I jumped beneath the clothes. 
 And in a jiff I fell asleep: 
 Soon heavy breathing loud and deep 
 
 W^as belching from my nose. 
 
 I didn't pound the pillow quite 
 A minute, till on wings of light 
 My body flew on high ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 143 
 
 It left this world of cruel care, 
 And darted upward through the air, 
 To realms beyond the sky. 
 
 The transformation was complete 
 
 When in my dream through heaven's gate 
 
 St. Peter let me in. 
 He took my hand with friendly glee, 
 As if my phiz he loved to see, 
 
 Bereft of care and sin. 
 
 The splendor which I saw was fine, 
 Beyond the power of pen of mine 
 
 Remotely to portray ! 
 My eyes and mouth were opened wide. 
 To see such sights on every side 
 
 In lands of endless day ! 
 
 "The Lord be praised, but this is joy!" 
 "You bet your life, my bully boy," 
 
 St. Peter kindly said, 
 "You'll never have to hustle here, 
 As fireman or as engineer 
 
 To get a crust of bread." 
 
 ''You quit the pipe sometime ago. 
 Or fragrance I would have you blow 
 
 From out of this cheroot." 
 "I did, your Saintship, I regret, 
 But dearly love the perfume yet, 
 
 When floating round my snoot. 
 
144 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 "For years the quack who made me quit 
 Has kept me on a brimstone spit, 
 
 With watery teeth the while." 
 ''A vast amount of cruel pain, 
 That cuts the body and the brain. 
 
 An old pipe can beguile." 
 
 "You're right, your Saintship, right you are. 
 Just hand me out a good cigar. 
 
 And here we'll smoke and chat : 
 Ah, this is grand ! at last I'm blest, 
 It is a superfine Key West, 
 
 I'll take my oath on that!" 
 
 "Hush ! never use a swear word here. 
 Because a realm of truth sincere. 
 
 With never a doubt is this ; 
 Snug Harbor you have found at last, 
 To compensate you for the past, 
 
 In everlasting bliss ! 
 
 "That weary world you left below 
 Is rightly named 'a vale of woe,' 
 
 A place profuse in tears ; 
 My gates I'll always open wide, 
 To let unfortunates inside 
 
 Who say they're engineers. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 145 
 
 "A yokel following a plow 
 Has little wrinkles on his brow 
 
 At threescore years and ten ; 
 He eats his hash with knife and fork, 
 And isn't killed with ceaseless work, 
 
 Like you poor enginemen." 
 
 "God bless your Saintship for your words, 
 They're sweeter than the songs of birds, 
 
 Saluting flowery Junes; 
 I'll send the information back, 
 To cheer "the gizzards on the track 
 
 Of languorous gossoons." 
 
 'T always keep my weather eye 
 Directed every ill to spy 
 
 Of you and all your kind ; 
 And when the soul of one takes flight 
 To hardship it may bid good-night, 
 
 'Twill leave all care behind. 
 
 ''Your firemen sometimes suflfer most, 
 But all the rest must take a roast 
 
 In Purgatory sure, 
 Some penitential prayers to chin, 
 Before I'll ever let them in 
 
 To realms of bliss secure. 
 
 "The oflice gents, with glossy cuffs, 
 And brilliant studs, and shirts with ruffs, 
 And frills about their heads, 
 
146 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 May bet their patent leather boots, 
 They'll snooze with pretty tough galoots 
 At death in curious beds." 
 
 "By all the heathen gods, but that's 
 The way to treat the upstart brats, 
 
 The know-alls of the rail ! 
 With exultation I'll explode. 
 Unless I can my joy unload, 
 
 You upright judge, all hail!" 
 
 A hearty dig beneath the ear. 
 Made all my dreaming disappear, 
 And knocked me in a heap, 
 As Kitty said : 'T want to rest ; 
 In bed or out, you're but a pest, 
 Quit talking in your sleep." 
 
 A SKATING EPISODE. 
 
 'Tother night I went for pleasure where the 
 
 merry skaters glide. 
 Where the ice was smooth and glary, and the 
 
 river good and wide, 
 On the margin, with some other ancient fellows 
 
 I looked on. 
 At the graceful evolutions of the skaters every 
 
 one: 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 147 
 
 Up before me stepped a maiden — not an old one 
 — twenty-five, 
 
 And I tell you all her pulses with health's vigor 
 were alive ; 
 
 She saluted me familiar, throwing open friend- 
 ship's gates. 
 
 And in language most bewitching asking if I'd 
 strap her skates. 
 
 Down upon my knees, regardless of rheumatics, 
 
 • I essayed 
 With more swiftness than I ever flopped upon 
 
 them when I prayed ; 
 She wore number threes ; her insteps would a 
 
 sculptor's heart entice. 
 If he strapped her skates, as I did, as I knelt 
 
 upon the ice. 
 Oft my fingers I pretended were so cold I could- 
 n't feel, 
 For the toe I fastened loosely a^d too tight I had 
 
 the heel ; 
 But at last the job was ended, and she gazed 
 
 down most serene 
 At her kneeling slave, and thanked him with the 
 
 bearing of a queen. 
 
 In a moment more she glided from my side, 
 
 amid the throng, 
 And I hankered, oh, so fondly ! — at her side to 
 
 go along; 
 
148 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 I could shake the kinks of winter from my joints 
 
 with perfect ease, 
 If my charmer had but asked me, as I knelt upon 
 
 my knees. 
 "Lead us not into temptation," many a pious 
 
 chap will prate. 
 Till, like me, he is requested to strap on a lady's 
 
 skate, 
 He'll obey, if he is human, such a witching girl 
 
 as mine. 
 And the fellow who'd refuse her is a mud man 
 
 or divine. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM PATRICK DUFFEY. 
 
 Ring the solemn bells in their saddest tone, 
 
 Let them swing in a dirge of woe, 
 They will speak of the hearts that sigh and moan, 
 
 Where the tender passions flow ; 
 And, oh, God ! the grief that is in the breasts 
 
 Of all those who knew him here. 
 Like a pall 'twould cover the place he rests. 
 
 Our heroic engineer ! 
 
 In young manhood's days, in life's early bloom 
 
 He responded to duty's call ; 
 And he bravely met the dismal doom 
 
 Which mav be the lot of all ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 149 
 
 He was speeding onward to save a town, 
 
 When his engine left the track, 
 But his post he manned as she tumbled down, 
 
 Though in life he ne'er came back. 
 
 He was dearly loved, we who knew him best 
 
 Feel grief's keenest pangs today, 
 And in spirit go to his place of rest 
 
 For a little while to pray. 
 For we know beneath that poor Dufifey lies, 
 
 Like our other heroes brave. 
 Till the angel's trump shall bid all arise, 
 
 Who repose in a martyr's grave. 
 
 When the roll is called for the noble dead 
 
 To appear in the great review. 
 Oh, I know my friend will be near the head, 
 
 As he well deserved it, too. 
 Not a selfish thought in his bosom lived, 
 
 And a manly heart had he, 
 That is why we all are so sadly grieved, 
 
 And this tribute's paid by me. 
 
 When an engineer dashes into death 
 
 With a consciousness of fate, 
 And to duty true till his latest breath. 
 
 Oh, he ranks amongst the great ! 
 And the trumpet-blasts of undying fame 
 
 Shall resound to the listening skies, 
 Adding laurel wreaths to entwine his name, 
 
 When a man like Pat Dufifey dies. 
 
150 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 With reverent tread I approach the sod, 
 
 As I bring this wreath of rhyme; 
 And I pray and hope that his soul's with God, 
 
 In celestial joy sublime ! 
 He was good and true, was a faithful friend, 
 
 And a skillful engineer. 
 And because he was, this sad song I send 
 
 As my gift to his hallowed bier. 
 
 WHEN EARTH'S FINAL MARCH IS OVER. 
 
 When earth's final march is over and our souls 
 are poising wings 
 For their flight beyond the planets out in 
 space. 
 Let us hope we'll get a welcome from the su- 
 preme King of Kings, 
 When we reach the glorious radiance of his 
 face. 
 With reliance on his mercy, when our latest 
 breath we give 
 To the elements above us ere we die, 
 We can feel that in his presence we again can 
 bloom and live, 
 'Mongst emancipated spirits up on high. 
 
 If in life we've struggled daily 'mid the snows 
 and suns of time 
 For a miserable pittance, we can feel 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 151 
 
 That our sins are only venial, that our hearts are 
 free from crime, 
 And the wounds of countless battles He will 
 heal; 
 No more anguish for the weary, no more bitter 
 tears to shed 
 When the order comes from earth to go away ; 
 No more need to plunge and jostle for the need- 
 ful crust of bread. 
 When our eyes behold the dawn of endless 
 day. 
 
 Oh, the thrilling joys of meeting with the loved 
 ones gone before. 
 Whom we parted with in sorrow and in gloom, 
 When we fold our wings delighted up on God's 
 eternal shore 
 Far away beyond the terrors of the tomb ! 
 Age will leave aside his wrinkles, and through 
 endless life we'll all 
 Glorify the Great Creator on his throne; 
 Who from heart-corroding anguish did our 
 weary spirits call 
 To that life where care and sorrow are un- 
 known. 
 
152 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 CINCINNATI. 
 
 When a fellow's heart is bubbling up with 
 
 thoughts he'd fain express, 
 And he lacks the words to clothe them, he must 
 
 suffer in distress ; 
 I've a stomach full at present of unspoken words 
 
 of thanks, 
 For as hearty a reception as e'er given from your 
 
 ranks 
 To a man, howe'er exalted in the nation he might 
 
 be, 
 On the night you flung applauses full of thunder 
 
 tones at me ; 
 But, alas ! the task is hopeless, for I didn't go to 
 
 school 
 When I had a chance to study, so I must remain 
 
 a fool. 
 
 Well, I've been to Cincinnati, where the stalwart 
 
 legions met, 
 Full of vim enthusiastic, for I feel their presence 
 
 yet, 
 And I'll note the friendly glances flashing from 
 
 a thousand eyes, 
 Till this soul of mine immortal takes its flight to 
 
 yonder skies ; 
 And I'll feel the hearty pressure of the hands of 
 
 countless throngs. 
 Which kept shaking mine so furious to reward 
 
 my homely songs ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 153 
 
 Yet, 'mid all such scenes of pleasure, I had pangs 
 
 of yearning gloom, 
 When I thought of one friend absent, my old 
 
 charmer, Mrs. Bloom. 
 
 Many anxious tongues kept wagging with per- 
 sistency to know 
 Why she failed to be amongst us where good 
 
 fellowship did flow ; 
 For the thought seemed universal that where 
 
 Shandy was around. 
 In the midst of royal pleasures at his side she 
 
 should be found. 
 Ah ! too well I knew the reason, but I kept it in 
 
 my breast. 
 Never squealing on the false one whom I longed 
 
 for from the west ; 
 Never breathing of the mitten, which was flung 
 
 with venomed ire, 
 By the mocking-bird of Oakland, who had 
 
 thrilled me wath her lyre. 
 
 Times like this of which I'm singing in fond 
 
 memory's halls we keep, 
 Till life's voyage shall be over, till we take our 
 
 final sleep. 
 They are green spots in the desert of the path we 
 
 daily tread. 
 Struggling graveward in our anguish to obtain a 
 
 crust of bread ; 
 
154 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Shining landmarks on life's journey, where love's 
 
 offerings are strewn, 
 To make beautiful the passage, sweet as flowery 
 
 meads in Jime. 
 Let us hope that many others are awaiting those 
 
 who met 
 In that hall at Cincinnati, whom I never will 
 
 forget. 
 
 HOW TO MANAGE A HUSBAND. 
 
 She first must catch him in the ties 
 
 Of love's delightful bondage, 
 Then on him she must keep sharp eyes 
 
 While he is in his fondage. 
 He mustn't feel one moment dull, 
 
 When yoked in marriage traces. 
 Or soon against his dear he'll pull. 
 
 And scorn her fond embraces. 
 
 If he should frown — reniember this — 
 
 She must steal up beside him. 
 And on his mouth plant many a kiss ; 
 
 'Tis better than to chide him. 
 Right soon she'll see a silvery smile 
 
 Float o'er his handsome features. 
 Because he'll think her free from guile. 
 
 And fairest of all creatures. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 155 
 
 'Tis not while in the honeymoon 
 
 A bride should look for danger, 
 For then he is a harmless loon, 
 
 And to deceit a stranger. 
 But when about three months have fled 
 
 In Hymen's perfumed clover, 
 He on soft nonsense must be fed 
 
 Or he will prove a rover. 
 
 Observe him when night's glorious queen 
 
 Is down on China shining; 
 If he should sneak out late, unseen. 
 
 He's for another pining; 
 She never need one step advance 
 
 To ascertain his scheming; 
 He'll tell it by his nervous glance — 
 
 Abstracted like and dreaming. 
 
 But if domestic traits he loves. 
 
 And isn't given to roaming, 
 He and his wife, like mating doves, 
 
 Will nestle in the gloaming. 
 Until about a year rolls by 
 
 On rosy wings delightful, 
 Then danger lurks in baby's cry, 
 
 If it is sour and spiteful. 
 
 A howling chorus made of squalls 
 Don't make a husband gracious. 
 
 When all night long come ceaseless bawls 
 From little imps pugnacious ; 
 
156 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Most men against such sounds will kick ; 
 
 We all hate babies' snarling, 
 And feel like rubbing with a brick 
 
 Each little pug-nosed darling. 
 
 Unless he is a patient man, 
 
 And full of human nature, 
 Created on a saintly plan, 
 
 Broad gauged in mind and stature, 
 He'll kick just like an army mule, 
 
 Or red-nosed bloat in rabies, 
 If she should prove a brainless fool 
 
 And plague him with cross babies. 
 
 A cunning wife can win reward 
 
 Through lifetime and hereafter, 
 If she will always greet her lord 
 
 With peals of silvery laughter 
 When he comes rolling home in glee, 
 
 All human ailments scorning, 
 And singing most uproariously, 
 
 "We'll not go home till morning." 
 
 The little chores about the house. 
 
 Too numerous to mention. 
 Should hourly from a faithful spouse 
 
 Have personal attention. 
 . So that her lord can sit at ease. 
 
 When he comes in from labor, 
 Or straggle round where'er he'll please, 
 
 To gossip with a neighbor. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 157 
 
 She mustn't mind the hairs that cHng 
 
 Upon his coat tail grinning, 
 Or at him fly on vengeful wing, 
 
 Or think that he's been sinning. 
 'Twill only make bad matters worse 
 
 To rail in jealous fury; 
 It ends too often in divorce 
 
 Before a judge and jury. 
 
 I here could sit till morning gray 
 
 O'er eastern hills comes breaking, 
 And still till night succeeds the day, 
 
 Such wise suggestions making; 
 On how a husband should be held 
 
 And worked for all that's in him, 
 By her wdio other maids excelled 
 
 When playing cards to win him. 
 
 But if she'll exercise the skill 
 
 Of courtship's days to catch him. 
 She'll mould him to her own sweet will 
 
 Until it's hard to match him 
 For tenderness through married life. 
 
 And loveliness unbounded. 
 Indeed, she'll be a happy wife. 
 
 With all delights surrounded. 
 
158 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 TO EUGENE V. DEBS. 
 
 An old admirer of your art, 
 
 In finding words to touch the heart, 
 
 Now takes a wilHng pen 
 To write some honest Hues to you, 
 A man amongst the very few 
 
 Of really brilliant men. 
 
 I've read your words for many years, 
 Evoking smiles, perchance some tears, 
 
 As each way I'd be swayed; 
 A wizard's wand would powerless be 
 To move my sympathies as free 
 
 As what your pen portrayed. 
 
 Sometimes in burning eloquence 
 You lacerated vain pretense 
 
 In haughty, purse-proud men ; 
 You taught your readers self-respect, 
 And how to hold their heads erect. 
 
 With fluent, running pen. 
 
 There's not a passion man can feel 
 But which you skillfully reveal 
 
 On editorial page ; 
 Your genius strips pretensions bare, 
 Till all can read the motives there 
 
 In which some men engage. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 159 
 
 Premises and conclusions grand, 
 Are treated with a master's hand, 
 
 And grouped in language strong; 
 Your reader's task is simplified. 
 There's nothing doubtful or implied 
 
 When pointing out a wrong. 
 
 I hope you'll wield for years your pen, 
 Defending all those stalwart men, 
 
 Who toil in sultry cabs. 
 Against a multitude of foes, 
 Continue to deal out your blows, 
 
 And don't forget the scabs. 
 
 WHEN MY SHIP COMES HOME. 
 
 Wlien my ship comes home o'er the creamy seas. 
 With her bending spars to the spanking breeze. 
 With her snowy sails swelling out on high, 
 Sweeping proudly 'neath an azure sky ; 
 Oh ! I'll sing a song of delightful sound. 
 For my heart with joy shall gladly bound, 
 When I see her glide o'er the ocean's foam, 
 With her cargo rich coming safely home. 
 
 She's a noble ship, with as brave a crew 
 As e'er sailed out o'er the waters blue. 
 She was built for speed, and was launched 'mid 
 
 hopes 
 That have clustered 'round her sails and ropes ; 
 
160 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 And she outward went when the breeze was fair, 
 And the balmy spring-time filled the air ; 
 When life's morning sun of the long gone by 
 Sent its slanting rays from a cloudless sky. 
 
 Many years have fled since she sailed away ; 
 Many pulsing hearts have been turned to clay ; 
 Many limbs grew faint on the toilsome road 
 That crowds in search of wealth have strode. 
 Many smiling Junes, when the skies were bland, 
 Have been here and gone since she left the land. 
 But she's yet afloat with her timbers sound, 
 And I'll soon hurrah for the homeward bound. 
 
 When the queen of night leads her starry 
 
 throng 
 Through the evening gates of the skies along; 
 When the nightingale fills the drowsy air 
 With her plaintive notes floating everywhere ; 
 When the Orient glows, with a luster bright, 
 From the silvery lamps on the brow of night, 
 I then to dreamy headlands roam, 
 Watching the sea till my ship comes home. 
 
 '*A sail, a sail !" I have ofttimes heard. 
 And my patient heart with the cry was stirr'd, 
 But my eyes grew faint as I scanned in vain 
 For my tardy bark coming o'er the main. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 161 
 
 I have watched big fleets, with their yards all 
 
 square. 
 Sailing into port full of treasures rare : 
 But I ne'er set eyes on this ship of mine 
 Since I sent her off o'er the foamy brine. 
 
 I wonder where she has staid so long? 
 Are her anchors down near the shores of song? 
 Has her crew been snared by Circe's smiles? 
 Or her course been shaped for enchanted isles? 
 Has the lightning joined with the hurricane 
 To engulf my bark in the trackless main? 
 Oh ! I can't believe but she's yet afloat, 
 For the Hopeful Heart is a royal boat. 
 
 She shall yet sail in full of every charm 
 
 That her decks can hold to the foreyard arm. 
 
 Tho' she left the land in my early teens, 
 
 She is yet afloat, one of ocean's queens ; 
 
 And she homeward glides o'er the moonlit seas. 
 
 As her proud sails thrill with the trembling 
 
 breeze, 
 With a cargo rare, full of richer gems 
 Than have flashed from queenly diadems. 
 
162 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 God's blessings on the young New Year 
 
 Now reigning on his throne of state. 
 Oh, may he prove more friendly here 
 
 Than eighteen hundred and eighty-eight. 
 
 The bells, in sounds almost divine, 
 
 Salute dear eighteen eighty-nine. 
 
 He's welcome, and we hope his reign 
 
 Shall be a grand one, free from pain. 
 
 May strife and discord sink from sight 
 
 To regions of eternal night. 
 
 May health and happiness prevail 
 
 'Mongst every man who runs the rail ; 
 
 And may 'longside the track be strewn 
 
 With choicest flowers blown in June, 
 Until the perfumed atmosphere 
 
 In incense circles round our noses, 
 On every day throughout the year, 
 
 A perfect paradise of roses. 
 
 Old eighty-eight, the hoary thief! 
 
 When first he crept across Time's portals. 
 
 Soon changed our smiles, and plunged in grief 
 The hearts of many toiling mortals. 
 Courageously we stood our ground. 
 And very soon our foemen found 
 That engineers, and firemen, too. 
 Were not at all a craven crew. 
 But men who could their rights maintain, 
 Endowed with courage, brawn and brain. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 163 
 
 Ah ! well, let others sighing sing, 
 
 My muse is out on joyous wing. 
 The jade is tipsy, bless her soul ! 
 
 She's had her share of happy cheer ; 
 She's ordered on another bowl. 
 
 To toast you all ''a glad New Year !" 
 
 Clasp hands around the festive board ! 
 And dash the frowns from every brow ! 
 
 On New Year's day we can afford 
 Convivial greetings, while we vow 
 To keep our flag of Union high. 
 Amid the splendors of the sky, 
 And toast our friends — the true and good — 
 Who recognize our Brotherhood. 
 Once more fill up! (In Adam's brew 
 From crystal springs I'll join with you.) 
 Here's may a reign of love prevail 
 Am.ongst all orders of the rail ! 
 And may the wheels of commerce roll 
 With good, remunerative toll ; 
 And may the dividends increase, 
 And may the land be blest with peace ; 
 May readers of the Magazine, 
 Glide down the stream of time serene. 
 And may the girls catch handsome boys, 
 To bless them with connubial joys. 
 
 Oh ! may the Lord hear all the prayers 
 We toast with water as with wine, 
 
 And may the best of all past years 
 Be eighteen hundred and eighty-nine. 
 
164 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 AN ENGINEER'S PRAYER. 
 
 Oh Lord ! from out an anguished heart, 
 That often felt the cruel smart 
 
 Of passion's pulseful poundings, 
 I cry for light upon the way, 
 To guide my footsteps night and day 
 
 Through bigotry's surroundings. 
 
 I doubt, Fm blind, I cannot see 
 The road which leads direct to Thee, 
 
 So many men survey it. 
 O'er theologic hills some go, 
 While others curve round vales of woe. 
 
 And all in tears portray it. 
 
 A narrow gauge by all account 
 
 From earth connects Salvation's Mount, 
 
 With train dispatchers many : 
 No one has got the right of way. 
 Though each dispatcher he will say 
 
 His route is best of any. 
 
 The creeds conflict on how to run. 
 But each insists that we must shun 
 
 Instructions of the other, 
 Or we will lose our time-card rights, 
 Be thrown in flame, where flesh ignites 
 
 In fire no force can smother. 
 
 Now, Lord, thou great Creator! hear 
 My doubting heart, that pleads sincere 
 For reason's light to guide me ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE*S POEMS 165 
 
 Why can't I as a ''wild cat" move 
 Upon a road that ends above, 
 No matter who'll deride me? 
 
 If flues of passion ofttimes leak, 
 And love's injectors badly break, 
 
 Until life's crown-sheet's started, 
 'Tis Thou with all Thy mercies bright, 
 Canst make the fire-box quickly tight. 
 
 And close up seams departed. 
 
 Tis well for those whose valves are square, 
 And kept in line by constant prayer, 
 
 With trust in Revelations ; 
 But doubting Thomases require 
 Faith's hourly slash-bar in the fire. 
 
 And white lights at all stations. 
 
 I'll flag around the curves of sin, 
 I'll try the best I can to win 
 
 Thy glorious approbation ; 
 But thou must give me needed aid 
 To climb life's long, laborious grade, 
 
 And guide me to salvation. 
 
 And when in heaven's roundhouse stored 
 To always sing thy praises, Lord, 
 
 In everlasting glory, 
 I'll feel that "wild cats" can succeed 
 To reach Thy throne outside each creed 
 
 Built on Memento Mori. 
 
1.66 shandV maguire's poems 
 
 REMINISCENCES OF OLD TIMES. 
 
 The other day in rich apparel, 
 There passed me by an old-time girl ; 
 A stunner of my early days, 
 Who kept my heart in steady blaze, 
 Because the sweet one looked a queen, 
 Of Juno shape, and just nineteen ; 
 While now — oh, Time, you rascal — she 
 Has changed most pitiful to see. 
 
 She never cast a glance to know 
 How fared myself since long ago ; 
 Her nose was pointed to the sky 
 The instant she went marching by. 
 She has her coach, her servants, too, 
 And mansion grand as one could view ; 
 Yet, with them all, I've heard she said 
 She ne'er was happy since she wed. 
 
 She married rich, while I was poor, 
 And thought her happiness secure. 
 Her husband was just twice as old 
 As she was ; purse-proud, sour and cold. 
 She wed him for his money bags. 
 And jilted me in homespun rags; 
 I really think she made a miss. 
 And lost a lot of married bliss. 
 
 Of course, the dresses on her back 
 Don't finish, style, or fashion lack. 
 Her jewels flash on hands and ears — 
 Her eves must also full of tears 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 167 
 
 Each night she drops her haughty head 
 Upon her pillow in her bed, 
 To see her husband on it, too, 
 In flannel night-cap, there to view. 
 
 Oh! Jennie, ere you left your teens, 
 You looked like one of nature's queens ; 
 And I was proud to be your beau, 
 In those dear days of long ago. 
 How fare we now, my haughty dame, 
 My old, deceitful, fickle flame? 
 I think you made a great mistake 
 Because myself you did not take. 
 
 You wouldn't have a coach, my girl, 
 You wouldn't glide in fashion's whirl, 
 No lackeys at your beck would run. 
 But, Jennie, you'd have lots of fun. 
 Whene'er I'd see your features sad, 
 I'd kiss you till I'd make you glad — 
 My lips, you've often said, you know. 
 Were very sweet in long ago. 
 
 Adieu ! perhaps I'll ne'er again 
 Salute you with my tongue or pen ; 
 Unless your husband he should croak, 
 And my old girl throw off life's yoke. 
 If such a chance should come about, 
 And you are rich beyond a doubt, 
 I'll take an old man's leaving then, 
 But otherwise I wouldn't, Jen. 
 
168 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 FANCIES. 
 
 When a dreamer sits down for a while in a chair, 
 To indulge in wild fancies, commune with the air, 
 And create out of nothing a readable tale, 
 For enjoyment of others, he's likely to fail. 
 Many times have I sat, like tonight, in the gloom, 
 With an army of specters about in the room ; 
 Every one ridiculing my efforts to train 
 Into shape the grotesque of my wearisome brain. 
 
 They keep dancing away in satanical ire. 
 
 And they flit in and out through the smouldering^, 
 
 fire ; 
 They re:::ind me so oft of my much needed bed. 
 Where a visionless sleep would assist my tired 
 
 head. 
 Till the caller comes round in the gloom of the 
 
 dawn. 
 Ere the rays of the sun sweep the dew from the 
 
 lawn. 
 That I think I'll retire till I hear his rich brogue 
 Captivating my ear with his blarney, the rogue ! 
 
 Oh ! of all the inventions the railroads have found 
 To enslave a poor devil : his feelings to wound. 
 There are none that I know of can pierce through 
 
 the heart 
 Like the voice of the caller when time to depart. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 169 
 
 You perhaps may be sleeping 'longside of a bride. 
 Or perhaps in a coach in your dreams you may 
 
 ride, 
 Or be counting your wealth, which you've only 
 
 in sleep, 
 When the imp comes around, and from bed you 
 
 must creep. 
 
 If your curses come homeward to roost, as folks 
 
 say. 
 What a pot-pie we'd have every hour in the day ! 
 It would take a whole county fenced in to contain 
 All the robust young chicks that flew out of my 
 
 brain. 
 Ere the orient sent through the darkness one ray 
 To denote the advance of the monarch of day. 
 As the devil-tuned tongue of the caller I'd hear 
 Pounding merciless words on my stupefied ear. 
 
 It is hard from the clasp of your wife to arise. 
 
 And embrace her good-bye, with the sleep in 
 your eyes. 
 
 Then to see her roll over and cover her nose. 
 
 With her curls arranged for a lengthy repose. 
 
 As you start to take charge of some scrap-heap 
 or go 
 
 To report for the plow in a blizzard of snow. 
 
 Well, such thoughts are enough to put fancies to 
 flight, 
 
 And my love from the bedroom is calling — Good- 
 Night ! 
 
170 SHANDV MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 DYSPEPSIA'S DOINGS. 
 
 Oh, I dreamt to the regions celestial I went 
 
 On the wings of a saint, t'other night, 
 And a jolly old time with companions I spent 
 
 Until called to get up at daylight. 
 I was welcomed with hearty effusions of joy 
 
 By the lads whom I fancied in woe ; 
 Everyone shook my hand and said : ''Shandy, old 
 boy. 
 
 We supposed you'd be sent down below." 
 
 When I looked at the fellows in clover, chin deep, 
 
 And I thought what they were upon earth, 
 Then I laughed till 1 thought I'd be strangled in 
 sleep. 
 
 So supreme was my bosom with mirth ; 
 For a lot of the toughest old growlers .they were 
 
 That have ever pulled throttle-bars out ; 
 And to even suggest I'd be doomed to despair 
 
 While themselves could in joy roam about. 
 
 There were kickers amongst them far worse than 
 old bears 
 
 That had gone many months without food! 
 And I marveled to think they were let climb the 
 stairs 
 
 Where the godly can only intrude ! 
 Not a soul of them ever knew what was content 
 
 Or a peaceable hour on the rail ; 
 I supposed when they died they were instantly sent 
 
 To the place where hot sand blasts prevail. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS l/'l 
 
 I sat down for a chat, and I tell you my heart 
 
 Beat a rattling tattoo in my breast, 
 For I thought from such bliss I would never de- 
 part, 
 
 And at last I was certain of rest. 
 Far away from the turmoil and torture of life, 
 
 And the battle unceasing for bread, 
 Without ever a hope in the wearisome strife, 
 
 From my birth until knocked over dead. 
 
 *Tass your pipe along. Jack, or a fragrant cigar. 
 
 Thank the Lord we are happy at last ! 
 Far away from the place where an engine or car 
 
 We can never observe rolling past. 
 Will you kindly inform' me how you got in 
 
 By his saintship who sits at yon gate. 
 Who's observing us now with a friendly old grin 
 
 And his ear cocked to hear how we prate?" 
 
 "What a question you ask ! any fool might reply 
 
 That it wasn't by drinking champagne. 
 But by running old 'hogs' till they'd stretch out 
 and die, ' 
 
 Right in front of a hard-pulling train ! 
 Have you ever been there ? then you know that I 
 tell 
 
 But a portion of truth when I say, 
 There's not on this side of the grave such a hell 
 
 As an eno:ineer's life every day. 
 
172 shandV maguir.e's poems 
 
 ''Now, relight your cigar, here together we'll 
 chat 
 
 And I'll joyfully tell you a tale. 
 Of what all our foemen in Hades are at. 
 
 Who were tyrants in life on the rail, 
 While we here are as happy as fathers of twins, 
 
 When they're teething and howling galore — " 
 At this moment I found I was yet in my sins, 
 
 By the pounding I heard at my door. 
 
 MEMORY'S MUSINGS. 
 
 Worthy friend, come sit beside me, 
 Till we two converse together — 
 (Though, alas! 'twill be in fancy). 
 
 In this solemn twilight hour. 
 May our hearts both float in rapture, 
 Just as buoyant as the feather 
 That is wafted by the fragrance 
 
 Of a maiden's sunlit bower. 
 
 We will sing of life delighted 
 That so oft to me thou'st painted. 
 In the dreamy days so happy. 
 
 In the days of long ago ! 
 When I thought thee more than mortal, 
 Ere our trusting hearts were tainted 
 By the shadows sent from cloud-land, 
 
 That presaged a coming woe. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 173 
 
 Happy days ! and happy dreaming ! 
 \'isions clust'ring round hope's mountain, 
 Gladsome moments, multiplying 
 
 Into hours of joy sublime ; 
 Quaffing deeply golden sunlight 
 At life's overflowing fountain 
 Never pausing in our rapture 
 
 To denote the flight of time ! 
 
 If a single thought of parting 
 Would pass silently before us, 
 It would make us cling the fonder 
 
 In the bonds of friendship dear ; 
 And thy voice, attuned to gladness, 
 Could woo mine in joyous chorus, 
 Far beyond all plaintive musings 
 
 Or a thought of mortal fear ! 
 
 How thy heart would bear mine onward 
 If it ever paused or faltered ! 
 How thy hopeful words would thrill me 
 ■ Like the trumpet blast .of fame ! 
 Till I felt once more courageous, 
 Till my bosom's doubts were altered, 
 And my lips were lisping praises 
 To entwine around thy name ! 
 
 I had strength to fight each battle 
 When, dear friend, thou wert beside me, 
 For I knew thou would'st sustain me 
 If misfortune strewed the way; 
 
174 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 But alas ! grim Fate was carving, 
 And in scorn he did deride me, 
 As I railed 'gainst separation 
 And to have thee with me stay. 
 
 When the sad farewell was spoken. 
 As I clasped thy hand at parting. 
 There were silent sighs unnumbered 
 
 Surging sadly in my breast ; 
 And I saw thee unavailing 
 Try to check the tear-drops starting, 
 That upon thy drooping lashes 
 
 For an instant seemed to rest. 
 
 In a moment there were castles. 
 Which were built in sunlit bowers. 
 Downward falling, tumbling round me 
 
 On the instant thou wert gone ; 
 Though I try to re-erect them, 
 Toiling in the ruins hours, 
 Fate keeps laughing at my efforts, 
 
 Although hope allures me on. 
 
 We are many leagues divided, 
 Both are drifting to the star-land ; 
 Far beyond our comprehension. 
 
 O'er the azure skies above ; 
 Where thou'lt surely be rewarded 
 With a never fading garland, 
 To be worn through life eternal, 
 
 In the realms of endless love. 
 
SHANDY MAGU ire's POEMS 175 
 
 And the brightest 'mid the many 
 In the treasured stores of Zion, 
 Is the very one the angels 
 
 Have selected for thy brow ! 
 Thou hast won it by life's labor, 
 Holy Writ thou may'st rely on, 
 For it tells us how the Master 
 
 Will the pure of heart endow. 
 
 DECEMBER. 
 
 December rolls around again with more than 
 
 mortal speed, 
 'Tis with us now, and many hearts in cruel an- 
 guish bleed ; 
 The chill of desolation sweeps across the sky of 
 
 life, 
 And each succeeding day we feel less mettle for 
 
 the strife ; 
 In early }outh and manhood's prime we chased 
 
 the gleesome hours, 
 Fresh pleasures sang a roundelay amid the 
 
 bloom of flowers ; 
 But now, just like the closing year, the cold of 
 
 coming doom 
 Proclaims the end will soon point out the weary 
 
 toiler's tomb. 
 
176 SHANDY MAGUIRE*S POEMS 
 
 How many mounds have risen o'er the level of 
 
 the plain 
 Since last we had December here, its snows, its 
 
 sleet and rain ! 
 How many hearts have ceased to beat, that 
 
 throbbed with joyous hope 
 One year ago, but now are still beneath some 
 
 grassy slope ! 
 A single year ! one little space of ever-fleeting 
 
 time ! 
 And yet how fruitful of decay — just like my 
 
 simple rhyme — 
 The }esterda\'s are now no more, tomorrow — 
 
 well w^ho cares? 
 We all must die and make a trip right up the 
 
 golden stairs. 
 
 I've known full many a choice gossoon, with 
 glorious gifts of gab, 
 
 Who taught me in the days gone by to sing while 
 in the cab ; 
 
 They took this life just as it came, and didn't 
 care a pin 
 
 How things w^ere working on the rail, they'd 
 meet them with a grin ; 
 
 They always had a pleasant laugh, though load- 
 ed down with cars ; 
 
 They'd sit and smoke and watch the sparks 
 coquetting with the stars! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIKE's POEMS 177 
 
 They always got there just the same as fellows 
 
 who would sweat, 
 Until they'd melt their lives away, and pay old 
 
 Nature's debt. 
 
 Don't make a widow of your wife, for if she's 
 
 only fair, 
 Her tears she'll not permit them long to soil the 
 
 weeds she'll wear. 
 She's up to all the witcheries an artful lad> 
 
 knows 
 To catch another victim, and to make the chap 
 
 propose ; 
 Then while you slowly moulder six feet beneatli 
 
 the clay, 
 Herself and your successor chase the gleesome 
 
 hours away. 
 Perhaps the big insurance, too, that some kind 
 
 fellows leave, 
 May help to keep the darling safe from having 
 
 cause to grieve. 
 
 But now, old fading year, farewell ! you're draw- 
 ing near your end ; 
 
 I cannot say you were my foe, nor yet my faith- 
 ful friend ; 
 
 I had my pleasures and my pains — the former 
 were but few — 
 
 I do not feel I owe a debt of much account to 
 you. 
 
 I'm not accused of killing time too long upon my 
 knees, 
 
178 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 December is too cold to pray, there's penance in 
 
 the breeze, 
 But now I fervently beseech the God of truth 
 
 and love 
 To give us all, at close of life, immortal joys 
 
 above. 
 
 DELUSIVE DREAMING. 
 
 'Tother night, as I lay cuddled up in a heap, 
 
 In what I would call "a remarkable sleep," 
 
 On account of a dream, 'twas a nice one, you 
 
 bet,— 
 Now please pardon the slang — I remember it yet, 
 I was happy, ah, yes, as a widow, whose love 
 Left a pile of insurance to comfort the dove. 
 When he'd see her no more, 'cause he went to 
 
 the blest 
 By the way of the boneyard, where surely he'll 
 
 rest. 
 
 In my slumber I thought I was only a boy, 
 
 On the threshold of manhood, my heart full of 
 
 joy. 
 
 With a stride just as swift as a greyhound, my 
 
 breast 
 A most beautiful castle, content for my guest. 
 I had plenty of wealth, I was full of conceit. 
 And as handsome a chap as a maiden could meet. 
 And what more could I ask? If you know, 
 
 kindly tell. 
 'Tis no wonder mv head did enormously swell. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 179 
 
 'Twould be noon every day ere from bed I'd 
 
 arise, 
 Take a yawn, then a bath, to wash sleep from 
 
 my eyes ; 
 When my breakfast was over I'd Hght a cheroot, 
 Take a look in the glass, and exclaim, ''What a 
 
 beaut !" 
 I was really in love with myself, you can see. 
 And in heaven's dear name, say, why shouldn't 
 
 I be? 
 Young and wealthy, good-looking and single, and 
 
 these 
 Are enough to put any young chap at his ease. 
 
 I was courted by man-hunting maidens in scores, 
 But the cold stare I gave them, I felt they were 
 
 bores. 
 How their mothers and fathers besieged me in 
 
 state ! 
 I was fished for, but never once nibbled the bait. 
 Oh, I felt that this life was a voyage o'er seas 
 That were wooed every hour by a spice-laden 
 
 breeze, 
 And their shores richly terraced with fruitage 
 
 and flowers, 
 Glades, uplands, bright meadows and evergreen 
 
 bowers. 
 
180 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 In the dance I was graceful. One night, at a ball, 
 I espied a fair creature that "grew" at the wall, 
 We were soon introduced. When her eyes looked 
 
 in mine, 
 Holy Jove, how I thrilled ! Oh, I thought her 
 
 divine, 
 A dear Hebe in stature, a blonde! just eighteen! 
 Of my castle I swore I would crown her the 
 
 queen ; 
 Soon we waltzed into friendship, and then into 
 
 love. 
 And, oh joy! how I worship'd that dear little 
 
 dove. 
 
 O'er a specious veranda, with roses abloom. 
 
 We two sauntered, I eager to find out my doom, 
 
 My tied tongue wouldn't aid me, I had it that 
 
 bad, 
 I could weep in my yearning, I really was mad ; 
 But at last, by an effort, my tongue it broke loose, 
 And I pitched all my bashfulness then to the 
 
 deuce. 
 So I gathered the dear one in close to my breast, 
 As my love, pure and holy, I freely confessed. 
 
 When I ceased, with a look that sank into my 
 
 heart. 
 She replied: "Yes, I love you. We never shall 
 
 part. 
 
SHANDV MAGUIRe's POEMS ISl 
 
 You're my prince and my king, and my virginal 
 
 charms 
 I bestow on you freely, they're now in your 
 
 arms." 
 I impulsively pressed her in closer — oh, woe ! 
 It was then I discovered my cake was but dough, 
 For my legal old heart-ache she loudly did 
 
 scream, 
 ''Don't be squeezing my life out." That ended 
 
 my dream. 
 
 THE ISLE OF CONTENT. 
 
 Send the ensign aloft, from the main let it fly. 
 Get on board, my companions. The blue of the 
 
 sky 
 Is a sign of fair weather. Now, off for a trip. 
 Every man I invited to come on my ship 
 May relax all his muscles, and bask in the light 
 Of enjoyment that beams for us day time and 
 
 night. 
 The harbor has faded, on pleasure we're bent. 
 To that haven of kickers, the Isle of Content. 
 
 See that fellow right there with the big brawny 
 
 back, 
 He's been tramping the ties all his life on the 
 
 track ; 
 Note that chap with the wrinkles all over his 
 
 head, 
 They are caused by his fight for his morsel of 
 
 bread ; 
 
182 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 There's another close by him, now three-score 
 
 arid ten, 
 All his life he has toiled, he's a king among 
 
 men; 
 Thou2:h their features are scarred and their 
 
 hopes may be rent. 
 Yet they nightly embark for the Isle of Content. 
 
 Here are others, sad-eyed, a miserable lot, 
 
 And they don't care a cuss whether school keeps 
 
 or not ; 
 For they ai-gue that life is no more than a curse. 
 And no matter what change comes, they can't be 
 
 much worse. 
 They were buffeted long on the rocks of despair, 
 But their wails went unheard into fathomless air, 
 They are happy at last, though they haven't a 
 
 cent. 
 For they're working their way to the Isle of 
 
 Content. 
 
 Here's a yowler, who always had slathers of gab, 
 Who would never let sunshine get into the cab, 
 Nothing happened to suit him, all things were at 
 
 fault, 
 Till a lesson in silence one day he was taught, 
 He was told that the road could be run without 
 
 help 
 From a mean, incorrigible, fault-finding whelp ; 
 Then he just took a tumble, and growling he pent 
 In his breast and set sail for the Isle of Content. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 183 
 
 We must fancy the weather is always like June, 
 And be off to the skies from each pessimist loon, 
 Shaking earth from our feet and its routine of 
 
 woes, 
 Its innumerable cares and its cobra-like foes, 
 Getting up in the azure of health-giving air, 
 Far away from the throbs of a racking despair, 
 Which is found not in keeping a pentitent Lent, 
 But in laughing away on the Isle of Content. 
 
 A NIGHT WITH A CRONY. 
 
 T'other night, as I stretched on the bed, 
 
 I fell into a sort of a doze ; 
 I had pains from the top of my head 
 
 To the nails of my big, swollen toes. 
 In that feverish, comfortless sleep, 
 
 Soon a ghost on my vision did gleam. 
 And it knocked me right into a heap — 
 
 I suppose it was only a dream. 
 
 With a look full of sympathy, soon 
 
 It came close to the place where I lay. 
 ''Arrah, Shandy, how are you, aroon? 
 
 Don't you sleep all your senses away." 
 'T am weary," I snappishly said, 
 
 "And I don't care a blasted baubee 
 If this moment I slept with the dead, 
 
 So you needn't come bothering me." 
 
184 SHAN'DV xMAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 "My old friend, you are right, for I hear 
 That you Hfe is so damnably tough ; 
 
 In your eye is a permanent tear, 
 
 Like as if you were pelted with snuff. 
 
 But, my boy, you'll be with us right soon." 
 '"Will you kindly explain where you dwell?' 
 
 *'Arrah, what's in a name, pray, aroon? 
 
 Sure, the preachers on earth call it Hell.' 
 
 "Holy Moses! God save me!" I cried, 
 
 And I gave a most heartrending scream ; 
 "Will you tell me, dear Ghost, when I died? 
 
 Sure, I though it was all but a dream." 
 "What's the matter, you cowardly spalpeen? 
 
 Do I look as if suffering with pain? 
 You need not fear to burn ; you're too green,. 
 
 Or along with us here you'd remain. 
 
 "You are suffering more hell every day 
 
 For the mouthful of grub which you get, 
 That you'll find when you're laid in the clay. 
 
 After paying old nature's last debt. 
 Have you got what you really could call 
 
 Seven hours in the long twenty-four 
 Right down on a mattress to fall. 
 
 To indulge in an undisturbed snore? 
 
 "Do you get any pay but your hash, 
 xA.nd the frolic you hold with the kids ? 
 
 Are you coffers so loaded with cash. 
 That vou cannot sit down on the lids? 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRES P()I-:mS 
 
 185 
 
 Every move which you make you need sand, 
 From the way you go shpping along, 
 
 Note that calloused lump there on your hand, 
 Indicating your life is all wrong. 
 
 "Every Sunday you're promised a roast. 
 
 If your life is not spent on your knees. 
 That your body will color like toast, 
 
 Where the heat is a million degrees. 
 And you believe them, you credulous loon, 
 
 When they tell of the bottomless pit, 
 Why, we're happy as songbirds in June, 
 
 We who went to our graves full of grit. 
 
 "Here's a bit of good honest advice, 
 
 Ere the roosters uproariously crow ; 
 When you bid farewell to the ice. 
 
 Summer suns, drenching rains, sleet and 
 snow. 
 Close your eyes full of hope and prepare 
 
 For a jolly old time with your chums. 
 In that place where they tell you the air 
 
 Will make dead men's teeth fall from their 
 gums." 
 
 Murphy's rooster just then gave a scream. 
 
 And the ghost gave a jump from my sight, 
 And abruptly I ended my dream. 
 
 Ere the sun sent a streak of daylight. 
 Out I rolled, like a log, from the bed, 
 
 With more aches than I ever can tell, 
 And I wished like in dreams I was dead. 
 
 To escape such a physical hell. 
 
186 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 A PATRIARCHAL CHANT. 
 
 Let the sad bells toll 
 
 For a parting soul, 
 That has gone to eternal rest, 
 
 Over Jordan's shore, 
 
 With its troubles o'er. 
 To recline amid the blest; 
 
 For his dying claim 
 
 Had a smack of fame, 
 Ere he stretched on his lifeless bier. 
 
 Saying: *T'm the man 
 
 The first engine ran, 
 Fm the oldest engineer!" 
 
 Well, I guess it's so. 
 
 For I others know 
 Who have made the self -same boast. 
 
 Never had a wreck — 
 
 They are yet on deck — 
 Nor a crown-sheet did they roast ; 
 
 Never hit a cat — 
 
 Now, get on to that — 
 Nor had known a thought of fear. 
 
 Thus each one declares, 
 
 Full of royal airs, 
 "Fm the oldest engineer." 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 187 
 
 They are scattered round, 
 
 And in places found, 
 Where the stalwarts congregate ; 
 
 A loquacious crowd, 
 
 Everyone quite proud 
 When his story he'll relate ; 
 
 He will tell of ways 
 
 Of his early days, 
 When the Stourbridge Lion ran, 
 
 And the engineer 
 
 Was a precious dear. 
 He was such a skillful man. 
 
 Let me die at eve 
 
 Where no eye will grieve 
 O'er my lifeless lump of clay, 
 
 Put me down to sleep 
 
 'Neath the grasses deep. 
 For an endless spell to stay ; 
 
 And whatever's said, 
 
 When at last Vm dead, 
 Never sue for a listener's tear, 
 
 With that chestnut stale. 
 
 Of the modern rail : 
 "He's the oldest engineer." 
 
188 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 A SONG OF AULD LANG SYNE. 
 
 After many long years, Kate, this meeting 
 
 Is welcome. We'll talk of the past, 
 How the numerous seasons sped fleeting 
 
 Since you and I rhapsodized last ! 
 I worshipped you then as a goddess, 
 
 Created for man to adore, 
 I thrilled at the shape of your bodice. 
 
 And loved from my heart's inmost core. 
 
 My head was a builder of castles — 
 
 The kind we inhabit in Spain — 
 I peopled them all full of vassals. 
 
 To march in your ladyship's train ; 
 I basked in the pleasures of hoping, 
 
 And futureward traveled serene. 
 My days and my nights full of moping. 
 
 And dreaming you'd reign as my queen. 
 
 My tongue, that's supposed to run freely, 
 
 Was often unable to wag ; 
 I stalled on the upgrades and really 
 
 I pufifed like a winded old nag ; 
 I'd silently gaze on your features, 
 
 And think, were you human at all, 
 I fancied you one of those creatures. 
 
 The first to reach earth since the fall. 
 
 Ah, many long years have passed over 
 Since those happy days which I sing, 
 
 When honey we sipped from life's clover, 
 In bright balmy days of its spring! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIKES FUEMS 189 
 
 We parted, and somehow or other 
 I can't tell how came it, can you? 
 
 Right soon you were caught by another. 
 And queen of my boyhood, me too. 
 
 You've proved a good wife, but oh, gracious ! 
 
 How changed is your bodice to-day ! 
 Besides, you're not quite so vivacious 
 
 As when we gulled moonshine away ; 
 The turkey-tracks scoring your forehead 
 
 Tell sadly and silently time 
 Is full of indifference horrid, 
 
 Now speeding you off from your prime. 
 
 I too, amid sunshine and showers. 
 
 Have pulled a strong oar on life's seas, 
 Where oft it required all my powers 
 
 To row 'gainst the force of the breeze. 
 I've run after rainbows to gather 
 
 The big crocks of gold at their base, 
 But always dark skies and foul weather 
 
 Obscured where they were in the haze. 
 
 Old Sweetheart, we've one consolation 
 
 To cheer us when prone to despair, 
 'Tis this: "During life at our station 
 
 We always stood faithfully there ;" 
 You proved a true wife and good mother 
 
 Through all the long years since you wed, 
 While I, Kate — well somehow or other 
 
 The baker I paid for his bread. 
 
190 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 When a paper last May struck my wondering 
 
 eyes, 
 I was knocked out completely, transfixed with 
 
 surprise, 
 For I witnessed an item which drove me as high 
 As a sky-rocket scoots on the Fourth of July. 
 "Mr. Manager Stone, " I perused, "had re- 
 signed," 
 Boys, I shed bitter tears till my optics were 
 
 blind ; 
 And I said a few prayers for the peaceful re- 
 pose 
 Of his soul, with the brine dropping down from 
 my nose. 
 With a doleful Ochone ! 
 From a heart full of grief, 
 Boys, I prayed for poor Stone, 
 Like the penitent thief, 
 When the spread-eagle rogue was impaled on 
 
 the cross, 
 And I feel you'll all chorus "Amen" for our loss. 
 
 Poor ex-Manager Stone ! it is painful to think. 
 Of the cups -full of gall enginemen had to drink 
 But a few years ago, when your head was so hot. 
 That your good common sense for the time was 
 
 forgot. 
 How you ached for a fight ! And you said with 
 
 some cash. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 191 
 
 Our old organizations to atoms you'd smash, 
 Did you do it, avick ? Faith ! I think you did well, 
 And you wore a high hat for a brief little spell, 
 
 But, acushla, machree ! 
 
 Poor ex-Manager Stone! 
 
 And betwixt you and me, 
 
 It cost many a groan, 
 And about seven millions of dollars or more 
 Ere the C. B. & Q. flopped us down on the floor. 
 
 Devil a prophet God ever gave to the Maguires, 
 They are good honest boys, and not one of them 
 
 liars. 
 But myself blossomed into a sort of a seer, 
 That could pour simple truths in a rattlehead's 
 
 ear; 
 Sure, I told you the time you were fighting so 
 
 brave, 
 That yourself and Paul Morton right into one 
 
 grave, 
 Would be thrown without mercy when dividends 
 
 ceased 
 And the tolls of the Q. by your actions decreased. 
 
 Where is Morton today? 
 
 Faith, his swell-head has shrunk, 
 
 He has shriveled away 
 
 To his hide like a skunk. 
 And yourself, my poor fellow, must now at some 
 
 phone 
 Keep your ears for hellos ; poor ex-Manager 
 
 Stone ! 
 
192 SHANDY MAGUIKE's POEMS 
 
 Are the Brotherhoods killed which you swore to 
 
 destroy ? 
 See our organs and count the new lodges, old 
 
 boy, 
 They appear to have grown as if magic pre- 
 vailed — 
 And the faster they grow when hardest as- 
 sailed — 
 And they prove that, instead of old women, they 
 
 had 
 A big army of fighters, ferociously mad 
 To have at you, avick ! till they conquered or 
 
 died. 
 Till at last, sir, they made you the honors divide. 
 They are blooming delightful. 
 While Paul and yourself, 
 Who were foolishly spiteful, 
 Are stowed on the shelf; 
 Tossed to rot in the boneyard, bereft and alone, 
 Without friends to salute you, ex-Manager 
 Stone ! 
 
 I am sorry — God pardon my soul for the lie — 
 When I finish this stanza I'll dolefully cry. 
 Ananias von Morton, the blatherskite fool. 
 Is to blame for your downfall, he made you his 
 
 tool; 
 He concocted the scheme, and you followed your 
 
 nose, 
 Till we flattened it out like a pancake with blows. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 193 
 
 So you now go to manage a telephone wire, 
 Just because you were, led by that infamous liar. 
 
 Now I'll bid you farewell, 
 
 Full of language sincere, 
 
 Mid hellos you must dwell, 
 
 With a phone at your ear, 
 While the Brotherhoods live and are flourishing, 
 
 too. 
 In defiance of Morton, of Perkins and you. 
 
 TO J. J. HANNAHAN. 
 
 Dear John, I'll your confessor be, 
 And at my penitential knee 
 
 I'll catalogue your crimes ; 
 'Twill be a lengthy list, I know. 
 But minor ones o'erboard I'll throw, 
 
 In mercy to my rhymes. 
 
 I notice in the Magazine, 
 
 At various places, you are seen, 
 
 All o'er this country grand. 
 You're here, you're there, you're everywhere, 
 And living on the best of fare 
 
 That's furnished in the land. 
 
 Beware of gluttony, my boy. 
 
 It will your health and life destroy. 
 
 And is a deadly sin. 
 You'll have to fast and hourly pray, 
 To gain the straight and narrow way 
 
 Where converts enter in. 
 
194 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 The seven deadly sins are rife 
 With snares to kiU eternal life, 
 
 And send you o'er the Styx ; 
 Be careful, boy, its tide is hot, 
 'Twill blisters raise on every spot, 
 
 For all your festive tricks. 
 
 Obey the ten commandments, John. 
 They're faithful friends to lean upon 
 
 In death's dark, dismal hour ; 
 No matter how the scofifers sneer, 
 Obey them, and they'll shove you clear 
 
 Of Satan's dreaded power. 
 
 I know you are a social lad. 
 Magnetic, and you're far from bad, 
 
 But in temptation's wa)-. 
 Some good advice you'll hourly need. 
 Which here I give, so John take heed 
 
 Of every word I say. 
 
 Remember that you mustn't cry: 
 "Forgive my sins, oh Lord on high," 
 
 And play good devil too; 
 You must be truly penitent, 
 To gain forgiveness, earthward sent, 
 
 For sinners such as vou. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 195 
 
 In olden times repented rogues 
 For penance had to fill the brogues 
 
 Upon their feet with peas, 
 Then walk around a church or two — 
 I'll not be so severe on you, 
 
 I'll spare both feet and knees, 
 
 "Now, "Thiggen Thu," as Frenchmen say, 
 Avoid temptation, watch and pray, 
 
 Until life's trip is o'er ; 
 For penance let your oily tongue 
 Be still when ladies fair among, 
 
 Be good, and sin no more. 
 
 'TET US WELCOME OUR COMPANY HOME." 
 
 Let us welcome our warriors home. 
 
 They are coming all crowned from the fray, 
 Like a thoroughbred flecked with the foam 
 
 Which he blows from his nostrils away. 
 To a quickstep how gaily they tread, 
 
 As it rolls from a soul-stirring drum ! 
 Oh ! they conquered slaves struggling for bread — 
 
 Let us welcome our warriors home. 
 
 For the very brief space of a week 
 
 The undaunted lads went to the wars. 
 
 To protect every ulcerous freak. 
 
 That was coupling and switching the cars ; 
 
196 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 They're returning all laureled and crowned, 
 Like the conquering heroes of old ; 
 
 And the streets with their praises resound, 
 Half their valor can never be told. 
 
 Pray, what right has a toiler to strike, 
 
 Or suppose he's created a man? 
 He's presumptuous to think of the like. 
 
 Let him carry his chains while he can ; 
 For if ever he tries to escape 
 
 From the shackles in which he is bound, 
 We can riddle his carcass with grape, 
 
 From the guns of our heroes around. 
 
 With the Pinkerton thugs and the guards, 
 
 And the treasure which lies in the vaults. 
 All the strikers are sure of rewards, 
 
 In the shape of ferocious assaults. 
 And the law and the question of right 
 
 For the moment are equally lost ; 
 They are crushed by the moloch of might. 
 
 Stalking onward regardless of cost! 
 
 To "our citizen soldiers" my song 
 
 Is inscribed with a poisonous will ; 
 They're the boys who marched gaily along. 
 
 The ''disorderly rabble" to kill; 
 Never pausing a stride to reflect 
 
 On the wrongs that poor devils may feel. 
 Who for once in their lives stood erect. 
 
 Asking justice and getting the steel. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 197 
 
 I remember a few years ago 
 
 When the *'higos" were ordered to march, 
 To encounter a resolute foe, 
 
 All their limbs were deficient of starch ; 
 They slunk ofif to the land of the queen 
 
 From a terror of Southern braves, 
 But their courage ferocious is seen 
 
 When they level their muskets at slaves. 
 
 THE MOVING ARMIES. 
 
 We are coming in our thousands from the moun- 
 tains towering high, 
 Where the eagle eyes of manhood see the glories 
 
 of the sky : 
 We are coming from the valleys, where the 
 
 rivers roll along, 
 Ijreast to breast, in solid phalanx, to increase 
 
 the mighty throng ; 
 From the cities come great armies of the brawny 
 
 sons of toil, 
 Men whose brows are scarred and furrowed 
 
 from a life of steady moil ; 
 We are coming slow but steady, to life's hopeful 
 
 Runnymede, 
 Where the masses from their thraldom shall by 
 
 Master minds be freed. 
 
198 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 From the mines ascend the miners to inhale the 
 
 purer air, 
 Which the God of nature sends us, each insisting 
 
 on his share ; 
 From the workshops came the milhons with a 
 
 mighty rush and roar. 
 From the farms and from the rivers, from the 
 
 seas and every shore, 
 Come the men of brain and sinew who discern 
 
 the coming dawn, 
 Which presages golden sunlight on our resurrec- 
 tion morn, 
 When, enfranchised from the bondage whicli 
 
 we've borne for countless years, 
 We shall stand in garb of manhood, scorning 
 
 supplicating tears. 
 
 We have stood for many ages all the slings of 
 cruel fate. 
 
 We have cringed with abject features to the 
 worldly rich and great ; 
 
 We have bent in meek submission till our backs 
 received the load. 
 
 And have stood it uncomplaining, as we ever 
 graveward strode. 
 
 We've been crushed and cruelly trampled under- 
 neath the feet of those 
 
 Who denied alleviation for our never ceasing 
 woes; 
 
SIIANDV MAGUIRE's POEMS 199 
 
 We have been but beasts of burden, held in bond- 
 age by our fears, 
 
 CrawHng- on in cowardly terror mid Gethsemanes 
 of tears. 
 
 Now, by heaven ! a light is breaking on the minds 
 
 of toiling men, 
 And emancipation's aided by the gloom-dispelling 
 
 pen. 
 This electric age is teaching men to think upon 
 
 their wrongs, 
 Their great armies are in motion, marching on in 
 
 mighty throngs. 
 From the highwa}s, from the byways, forth they 
 
 niarch in solid tread. 
 In battalions and divisions, with their leaders 
 
 at their head. 
 To demand the Rights of Labor, and declare 
 
 their newborn creed, 
 And insist that from their bondage men must 
 
 evermore be freed. 
 
 All ye croakers, and ye doubters, let your ears 
 
 but touch the ground. 
 And you'll hear their foot-beats moving, for they 
 
 make the earth resound, 
 In communion, in one union, every man his 
 
 brother's peer, 
 And before you realize it that grand army will 
 
 be here ! 
 
200 SHANDV MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 Here to sing their glad Te Deums, for the vic- 
 tory is sure, 
 
 Here to sing the exaltation of the long-enduring 
 poor; 
 
 Here to have a resurrection from the thraldom 
 of the slave. 
 
 And secure the manumission which most surely 
 waits the brave. 
 
 TO LOCOMOTIVE FIREMAN JAMES G. 
 BLAINE, JE. 
 
 Dear Jim, while you are in the cab, 
 
 And socially than nie no better, 
 I'll just fire off some surplus blab, 
 
 And write to you a rhyming letter. 
 I'll not say one offensive word, 
 
 j\Iy gallant lad, if I but know it, 
 Although expressions most absurd 
 
 Sometimes escape an humble poet. 
 
 You're certainly endowed with pluck ; 
 
 Your father's son need never labor ; 
 You could your lifetime run amuck 
 
 Hobnobbing with each wealthy neighbor ; 
 But Jim, there's more in having grit 
 
 To face the fight where steel rails rattle ; 
 Than all your life at ease to sit 
 
 And driving others onto battle. 
 
SEtANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 20 
 
 Down at Bar Harbor every day 
 
 Your honored sire must snuff salt breezes. 
 His health is failing, papers say — 
 
 They notice every time he sneezes — 
 Perhaps his appetite is poor, 
 
 But Jim, avick ! the devil a danger 
 But that your own, you may be sure, 
 
 Will let you masticate a Granger! 
 
 A can of blackstrap 'neath your nose 
 
 Is called a first-class appetizer ; 
 The coal dust on your face and c^.othes 
 
 Your lady love it may surprise her ; 
 But Jim, she'll love you just the same 
 
 If you are dusky as Othello; 
 Because you nobly play life's game 
 
 Like any honest manly fellow. 
 
 .V fn-eman's lot is pretty tough ; 
 
 The acid, rottenstone and polish. 
 Besides all other blasted stuff, 
 
 Sor,:e future day you must abolish ; 
 You'll learn the furnace door requires 
 
 Sufficient work for what they pay you ; 
 Poor coal, and cleaning dirty fires 
 
 Upon the road's enough to flay you. 
 
 Your spinal bone will sorely ache 
 Before you do the slash bar master ! 
 
 But never a vacation take. 
 
 Slap on the pain a strengthening plas^^er. 
 
202 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Just learn the knack to twirl the scoop — 
 'Tis in your wrist the secret's hidden — 
 
 Below your hip joints never stoop ; 
 
 And know that wasting coal's forbidden. 
 
 Hang on until the snowdrifts high ; 
 
 Are all around your engine growing, 
 When hell's hurrah shrieks through the sky, 
 
 For days and nights of constant snowing, 
 'Tis then you'll learn our lot is hard ; 
 
 We never snooze on crumpled roses ; 
 And many times our sole reward 
 
 Is frozen fingers, ears and noses. 
 
 Some day you'll be a president 
 
 Of some trunk line, in some big city ; 
 And, wdien the boys on justice bent. 
 
 Shall interview you in committee, 
 You'll understand each word they'll say 
 
 When they are all their wrongs revealing ; 
 And from the knowledge gained today. 
 
 You'll listen with a kindred feeling. 
 
 Henceforth I'll watch your bright career 
 
 Through all its rapid, upward stages, 
 As fireman, Jim, and engineer. 
 
 Two places you must toil for wages. 
 And when you leave us, don't forget 
 
 How much poor enginemen must worry; 
 Our lives are rounds of constant fret, 
 
 Eked out in an eternal hurry. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 203 
 
 AN HOUR WITH A SPOOK. 
 
 Arrah, boys, t'other night, in my dreaming, 
 
 I lay cuddled up in a heap. 
 And fancies profusely came teeming. 
 
 Annoying me oft in my sleep. 
 At last, I was hustled with fury, 
 
 To regions of sinners below, 
 Without either judge or a jury 
 
 Decreeing 'twas there I should go. 
 
 The screaming I heard was most fearful, 
 
 It dazed every lobe in my brain ; 
 My eyes were o'erflowingly tearful ; 
 
 Around seemed a limitless plain, 
 'Twas clouded with smoke and dank gases, 
 
 And kiln-dried old wretches I saw, 
 Whose friends in the flesh offer masses 
 
 To God to mix mercy with law. 
 
 All nations, all creeds, and all sexes 
 
 Had sent representatives there ; 
 Death slit every one's solar plexus. 
 
 And tumbled all down to despair. 
 Convenient, I noticed one fellow. 
 
 The cut of whose jib I once knew, 
 Now dried up like parchment, a yellow 
 
 And sooty old sulphurous hue. 
 
 He Sunday schools taught, and he told us 
 We railroaders all, when we'd die, 
 
 Would find that Old Nick had enrolled us 
 In regions remote from the sky. 
 
204 shandv maguire's poems 
 
 He played a slick game while it lasted, 
 
 The sisters he had on his side. 
 And church flags were draped and half-masted, 
 
 Lamenting the chap when he died. 
 
 I marveled much there to behold him, 
 
 And pitiful gave him my hand ; 
 I hated to heartlessly scold him, 
 
 He had all the grief he could stand. 
 I told him I thought him in glory. 
 
 Away from such terrible strife ; 
 He preached so on monoito mori, 
 
 And leading a good Christian life. 
 
 "Alas !" said the spook, "all my preaching 
 
 Was but from the tongue in my head, 
 And millions above shall be bleaching. 
 
 Like me, wdien they find they are dead. 
 The garb of the clergy too often 
 
 Conceals blooming rascals on earth ; 
 When down goes the lid of each coffin. 
 
 They'll curse their ill moments of birth." 
 
 "God help us," I then replied, gravely ; 
 
 'T fear all my pals up above, . 
 WhoVe fighting life's battles so bravely, 
 
 But not with a good Christian love. 
 Are doomed for these regions infernal 
 
 The moment their gizzards are cut." 
 "Not so," said the spook, "but eternal. 
 
 In heavenly homes they'll be put. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 205 
 
 *A man with one wife, and who struggles 
 
 To keep her, as well as the kids, 
 He needn't fear post-mortem juggles 
 
 When down o'er his eyes go the lids. 
 You railroaders, all — God in heaven ! — 
 
 You've nothing but hell every day ; 
 No rest in the flesh are you given, 
 
 Besides, a poor beggarly pay. 
 
 **The chains of a mortal oppression 
 
 Are now bending downward your backs ; 
 Commit but the slighest transgression, 
 
 And under your feet go the jacks. 
 No matter how long and how faithful 
 
 You serve all the various roads, 
 You're treated like hirelings, most hateful, 
 
 And scourged by their martinets' goads. 
 
 *T know I'm in hell, but I'd rather 
 
 Be here than be running a 'mill' 
 On a railroad above. Holy Father! 
 
 In time it would Lucifer kill. 
 Take back there this great consolation. 
 
 That each time an engineer dies. 
 His soul gains the terminal station, 
 
 Where green lights are hung in the skies." 
 
 I made a big jump, full of feeling, 
 
 To hear the good news for us all. 
 When down like a dog I came reeling. 
 
 Most stunned by the force of the fall. 
 
206 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Kate screamed : ''Get a priest — he is dying." 
 "Don't mind him, old Sweetness," said I ; 
 
 '*I thought I had wings, and was flying 
 Away to ni}' pals in the sky." 
 
 THE SYMPTOMS OF GRIP. 
 
 Lord, send a change in the weather, 
 'Tis needed — be praise to Thy name — 
 
 My head tumbles 'round like a feather 
 'Tis burning 'most into a flame ; 
 
 My eyes are near sightless and glazy, < 
 I fear from their sockets they'll slip, 
 
 1 see, but all objects look hazy, 
 
 'Tis all on account of the grip. 
 
 My back is tied up with a plaster 
 
 To keep it from breaking in halves ; 
 My limbs share the general disaster, 
 
 They're aching clear down to the calves : 
 In bed with such feelings infernal 
 
 I toss as if scored with a whip. 
 While trying to write for the Journal, 
 
 And breathe a few prayers for the grip. 
 
 'Tis many a year since I landed 
 Before for a rest in Sick Bay ; 
 
 At last I've been caught, and I'm stranded, 
 With strength slowl\- ebbing away. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 If we don't get a change in the weather, 
 Dear reader, Til give you this tip: 
 
 "I'll be soon snoozing under the heather, 
 A victim of doctors and grip." 
 
 207 
 
 AN ECHO FROM THE PAST. 
 
 To My First Engineer. 
 
 Your sad letter's at hand. I regret from my 
 heart 
 
 That the mail didn't rush it in time, 
 Until ofif to the obsequies, Tom, I'd depart, 
 
 My regrets I must send you in rhyme. 
 A most lovable wife and a virtuous one 
 
 You are now called upon to bewail. 
 But I feel in my heart to salvation she's gone. 
 
 Where her coming the angels did hail. 
 
 In the days long ago, when our bosoms beat high. 
 
 Full of youth, full of vigor and hope, 
 You remember, dear Tom, how the seasons sped 
 by 
 As we basked upon life's sunny slope? 
 It was then that the lost one first pledged you 
 her love. 
 And the ring on her finger you placed ; 
 Oh, but now she can look from the mansions 
 above 
 On a home Uiat she never disgraced. 
 
208 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 When I tossed in the blocks through the low 
 furnace door 
 Of the engine you ran in those days, 
 How the roaring exhaust up the smoke stack 
 would roar 
 And how furious the nail-rod would blaze, 
 For you kept the reverse-lever down as you sang 
 
 All the love-songs you had in your head, 
 Quite forgetful of me, till the door I would bang, 
 Many times ere the charmer you wed. 
 
 You have had a fair share of this world's success, 
 
 And your home life was happy, indeed ; 
 You have two lovely daughters, your mansion to 
 bless 
 And a son to assist you in need ; 
 These are blessings of which you may prudently 
 boast. 
 For a blush they ne'er brought to your face, 
 Oh, but, Tom, the poor kind one you worshipped 
 the most. 
 Will no more cheer the house with her grace. 
 
 I would like at this moment to offer advice. 
 
 If you'll take it sincere from a friend: 
 "When the sun-rays of time begin melting the ice 
 
 Of your grief and denoting its end, 
 Do not then dye your hair and tilt sideways your 
 cap. 
 
 And imagine you're back in your teens. 
 And go courting again, like a doting old chap. 
 
 To be laughed at by Nature's fair queens. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 209 
 
 "There's a soft spot in every old widower's head, 
 And he'll kick like a Kentucky mule, 
 
 If opposed by some friends, who don't want him 
 to wed, 
 
 • When they find him a spoony old fool ; 
 
 Your bright boy and your girls would spit in 
 your face 
 When the stepmother entered the door ; 
 
 And the looks of content we so often could trace. 
 Would be never observed on it more. 
 
 *'Tom, remain as you are, and be proud of your 
 home. 
 Where domestic delights lingered long ; 
 Do not drive out your children, the world to 
 roam, 
 And become drifting waifs in its throng; 
 For you'll ne'er find another as pure and as good 
 
 As the one you laid under the sod, 
 Who so long by your side pure and faithfully 
 stood. 
 Until called by a welcoming God." 
 
 LORD PARAMOUNT— A GATE MAN. 
 
 Thou mighty prince, great potentate, 
 
 Distinguished ruler, hail ! 
 Illustrious guardian of the gate, 
 
 And nabob of the rail ! 
 
210 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 An abject slave, of humble mien, 
 Now tenders praise to thee, 
 
 Thou mighty highness most serene ! 
 That abject slave is me. 
 
 Thou Kaiser, King, Mikado, thou 
 
 Great Emperor, oh. Gosh ! 
 A crown ne'er sat upon the brow 
 
 Of half so big a squash. 
 The Czar of all the Russias or 
 
 Our ow^n dear Grover C., 
 Is but a base plebeian cur 
 
 Compared, Great Shakes, with thee! 
 
 Oh, noble man, thy polished punch 
 
 Is ravenous for food. 
 And dearly loves a hole to crunch 
 
 In pasteboard, when imbued 
 With all the force thy fingers wield, 
 
 When panting for his prey. 
 It is a blunderbus and shield 
 
 For driving tramps away! 
 
 Thou lookest down with grim disdain 
 
 On each approaching ass, 
 Who tries to catch a leaving train. 
 
 And doesn't have a pass 
 Or ticket to salute thy sight. 
 
 As shivering he'll stand. 
 With feelings of dejected fright, 
 
 To give thy outstretched hand. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 211 
 
 I've often walked with stalwart stride, 
 
 Until I'd meet thy glance, 
 Presuming through thy gate, swung wide, 
 
 I freely could advance ; 
 But palsy would my limbs possess 
 
 When once thy voice I'd hear, 
 \nd in the deepest of distress 
 
 I'd sneak back on my ear! 
 
 If superintendents had thy strut, 
 
 And managers thy way. 
 The railway service would be put 
 
 In better shape today ; 
 Thou'dst make each brazen-faced galoot. 
 
 Who toils upon the track, 
 Each man respectfully salute 
 
 With blue coat on his back. 
 
 Napoleon, after Austerlitz, 
 
 A pigmy seemed to thee. 
 Away his glory fog-ward flits 
 
 When once thy phiz I . see ; 
 I've worshipped his heroic name, 
 
 And truly thought him great, 
 I now confess it to my shame, 
 
 Thou'rt greater on the gate ! 
 
 Farewell, until again we meet 
 
 The same as once before ; 
 But, please, don't use thy royal feet 
 
 To kick me from thy door; 
 
212 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Just bulge thy laundered bosom out, 
 And wreathe thy face with scorn, 
 
 Then in disgust I'll wheel about 
 To think I e'er was born ! 
 
 LOS ANGELES. 
 
 The time is opportune to sing, 
 I'd like to make the welkin ring 
 With high applause, with loud acclaim, 
 With trumpet blasts of deathless fame, 
 Concerning days and scenes now o'er, 
 Whose like we never saw before, 
 Where God made every sight to please 
 Observers in Los Angfeles ! 
 
 ^fe' 
 
 I wish I could sweet songs essay, 
 Of floral grandeur far away. 
 Where flowers carpeted the sod 
 O'er every place where'er we trod ; 
 Where oranges, like molten gold. 
 In wonderment we did behold. 
 And perfume came on every breeze, 
 To greet us in Los Angeles. 
 
 What sights on every hand we saw ! 
 How every heart was filled with awe, 
 As poppies came with soft caress 
 Saluting in their golden dress ! 
 The olives, lemons, walnuts, too, 
 Hung down before our raptured view, 
 And palms, majestic in the breeze, 
 Were swaying in Los Angeles. 
 
Shandy maguire's poems 213 
 
 No matter where we chanced to go, 
 Magnificence did round us flow, 
 And birds all sang in chorus sweet ; 
 And bees culled honey at our feet. 
 And sunshine came like blessings down, 
 In genial rays, our joys to crown, 
 And ozone from adjacent seas. 
 We quafifed in dear Los Angeles. 
 
 Oh, what a clime and what a land! 
 The great Jehovah's partial hand 
 Dealt such luxuriance to the place 
 As never to the human race 
 Elsewhere was given ; every sight 
 Transfixed us with a new delight. 
 And oft we could on bended knees 
 Have thanked Him for Los Angeles. 
 
 Its people gave us welcome great, 
 And did upon our wishes wait ; 
 From early morn till late at eve. 
 We never had one hour's reprieve ; 
 And stars aflame from genial skies 
 Shone welcome on admiring eyes, 
 Till slumber came on beds of ease, 
 To soothe us in Los Angeles. 
 
 At Santa Catalina's Isle, 
 We did too brief a stay beguile. 
 Beneath the gentle waves that roll'd 
 We wondrous objects did behold; 
 
214 SHANDV maguire's poems 
 
 The grandest gardens man could see, 
 That e'er lured humming-bird or bee, 
 Were there, with fishes in the trees, 
 Convenient to Los Angeles. 
 
 If Paradise like Redlands seems, 
 It does surpass our fairest dreams ; 
 And Riverside, and "round the kite," 
 Are places filled with great delight. 
 In fact, there's not a sight we saw 
 But filled our hearts with speechless awe ; 
 Like nectared wine, without 'the lees, 
 Were all things in Los Angeles. 
 
 When icicles hang from our ears, 
 When wintry gales congeal our tears, 
 When drifts in cuts grow smoke-stack high, 
 And crawling scrap-heaps droop and die, 
 'Tis then we'll groan in chilling pain 
 On engine dead or snowed-in train. 
 Where north winds screech our obsequies 
 And wish for dear Los Angeles. 
 
 A BIRTHDAY BLOW-OUT. 
 
 Over the emerald fields together. 
 Out in the sunshine all the day. 
 
 Tripping along through the flowery heather, 
 Charley and I had glorious play ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 215 
 
 Chasing the bees amid the clover, 
 
 Half our fun can ne'er be told, 
 Tossing and tumbling over and over, 
 
 Romping around with my three-year-old. 
 
 Following butterflies, gathering flowers, 
 
 Mimicking birds in their airy cries ; 
 Quaffing life's sweets, discarding its sours. 
 
 Under the fairest of summer's skies ; 
 Wreathing the buttercups, daisies, and grasses 
 
 Crowning eath other with green and gold ; 
 Never could two in their joy surpass us. 
 
 All of the day he was three years old. 
 
 Back to the time of youth I floated, 
 
 Flinging a laugh in the teeth of care. 
 Then in a dream of fancy gloated — 
 
 Only in fancy — with Charley there! 
 Now Fm a grandsire ! Time, you devil! 
 
 Why have you got so firm a hold? 
 Why do you drag me from fun and revel? 
 
 Let me remain at three years old. 
 
 Out on such thoughts ! my king is springing 
 
 Up to me now with rosy face. 
 Many-hued birds are round him singing, 
 
 Charmed with all his childish grace. 
 Kiss after kiss I gave him freely, 
 
 Clasped to my breast with thrilling fold. 
 Nothing in life is sweeter really 
 
 Than nectared lips of a three-year-old. 
 
216 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 Weary at last was my royal treasure, 
 
 Weary indeed from a sportive day, 
 Having exhausted fun's flowing measure, 
 
 Down went his head on the new-mown ha; 
 There he reclined till the sun was sinking, 
 
 Keeping my heart in his giant mold. 
 Where I affectionate draughts kept drinking 
 
 Wishing success to my three-year-old. 
 
 THE CALIEU'S WARNING. 
 
 Don't call me till nine in the morning, 
 
 If sooner, my bucko, I'm sure 
 I'll honestly now give you warning 
 
 You'll hear something drop at the door. 
 The weather has every appearance 
 
 Of taking a little repose, 
 The sun went to sleep in a clearance 
 
 As red as Dick Woodburn's nose! 
 
 Don't call me till nine in the morning. 
 
 Then come with a song and a dance. 
 And tell of the sunbeams adorning 
 
 The earth to its widest expanse. 
 Right after a terrific storm 
 
 We always are sure of a calm, 
 And a spell of fine weather so warm 
 
 It acts on our bones like a balm. 
 
<;handy magi'ire's poems 217 
 
 Tossing hummocks of snow when old Freeze 
 
 Is roaming at night in the cuts, 
 And a double-edged fifty-mile breeze, oh, 
 
 So cold 'twould drive bears to their huts, 
 Is enough in the gloom to remind me 
 
 Of pleasant hours under the clothes, 
 Where the darling old girl behind me, 
 
 Can stretch till refreshed by repose! 
 
 In this life we have gardens of roses, 
 
 Where often we cull a bouquet, 
 But the sweetest is when one reposes 
 
 In bed until nine every day; 
 Boutonnieres of a sleep tantalize me, 
 
 When gathered in somnific bowers, 
 The kind that with joy can surprise me 
 
 Are bouquets of sleep for ten hours ! 
 
 Call here about nine in the morning. 
 
 Come gentle as widows to woo, 
 A change it will be from the horning 
 
 And door-thumping act which you do ; 
 Each time you are chin-full of malice. 
 
 And act like a king on his throne. 
 While I'm but a dog round your palace, 
 
 Chastised for but seeking a bone. 
 
218 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 THE UNHEARD-OF HEROES. 
 
 Give glory to the gallant lads who're fighting in 
 the trenches, 
 Or down below the water-line on board our 
 men-of-war, 
 Or gunner in the conning-tower, who never fears 
 nor flinches, 
 Where death is almost certain, 'mid the can- 
 non's deadly roar; 
 Give glory in full measures, let the nation sound 
 their praises ; 
 Courageously they won them 'mid the battle's 
 deadly hail ; 
 But know that there are others, hidden in life's 
 humble mazes, 
 Whom I'm proud to call companions, gallant 
 men who man the rail. 
 
 Give glory to the heroes, who, when drums are 
 loudly beating, 
 And trumpets playing quicksteps, charge the 
 enemy with cheers ; 
 Who feel their bosoms bounding, as before them 
 he's retreating, 
 Our gallant Yankee soldiers, who are fighters 
 without peers ! 
 rUit don't forget the toilers who are daily doing 
 battle 
 Out upon the great steel highways where duty 
 must prevail ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 219 
 
 With no notes of martial music there to stimulate 
 their mettle, 
 As crushed to lifeless masses they have fallen 
 on the rail. 
 
 Give glory in abundance to the men with steel 
 advancing, 
 When shot and shell are screaming in a devil's 
 wild tattoo. 
 The Stars and Stripes above them, and the sun 
 on bayonets dancing, 
 While rushing on the Spaniards — their bat- 
 teries in view ! 
 But don't forget the heroes who see certain death 
 before them. 
 As standing by their engines they give up their 
 precious lives. 
 Neither fife nor drum to cheer them, nor proud 
 banner waving o'er them, 
 Nor a pension to reward them, by protecting 
 babes and wives. 
 
 Give glory to the Deweys, Schleys, the Hobsons 
 and all others 
 Who have the dash and daring to ascend the 
 heights of fame ; 
 But in the brave men's temple save some niches 
 for my Brothers, 
 Who're lion hearts in peril though unknown 
 each gallant name 
 
220 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 When Gabriel blows his trumpet to awaken glor- 
 ious mortals, 
 Whose deeds will live forever, although them- 
 selves are dead, 
 When ''Forward, march!" is given to pass in 
 through heaven's portals, 
 Engineers, 'longside their firemen, will be very 
 near the head. 
 
 AT A MEETING POINT. 
 
 She was blowing both inside and outside each 
 lung 
 With a most unmistakable sound ; 
 Thirty-five loaded cars right behind her were 
 strung, 
 Which were making her old body pound. 
 It was rub her and coax her, wet-nurse her and 
 pet, 
 Till I ran on the siding ahead. 
 And when in I lay down, almost gone, you may 
 bet, 
 Off I dozed and I dreamed I was dead. 
 
 Far away from the trials of life I arose 
 
 In the beautiful realms of bliss ; 
 'Twas a clime where no icicles hung to my nose 
 
 Like the way which they hang here in this. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 221 
 
 I passed in through a gate made of costhest gems 
 That before my wrapt vision did gleam, 
 
 Far more brilhant than all of earth's kings' 
 diadems ; 
 Oh, the thoughts of that memorable dream ! 
 
 A sweet sanctified saint, with a welcoming look, 
 
 Came to greet me with accents of joy. 
 My right hand into his full of kindness he took, 
 
 And he said : ''You are welcome, my boy ! 
 Bid adieu to long trains, to old engines that 
 scream, 
 
 Leaky flues, pints of oil and the like. 
 Smoky boxes, poor coal, buckled crown-sheets, 
 no steam, 
 
 And a life on yon damnable pike." 
 
 As he spoke I looked down and I witnessed a 
 sight 
 
 That was photographed into my eye. 
 On a siding beneath, in the cold, dismal light, 
 
 My old mill was preparing to die. 
 I could note by the stack that the blower was on, 
 
 The injector was psalm-singing, too, 
 Both the flanges were icy, the coal about gone 
 
 And the prospects decidedly blue. 
 
 ''Can I stay with you always," I pleadingly said, 
 "You may bet your last nickel you can." 
 
 "Will your Saintship explain if I really am dead? 
 Am I sainted or only a man?" 
 
222 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 "You're an angel and really deserving a crown, 
 I'll go fetch you one instantly, too, 
 
 Evermore you may sing, without fear of a frown, 
 We distinguish poor toilers like you." 
 
 Off he soared on a pair of as beautiful wings 
 
 As I ever beheld in my life ! 
 Made' of feathers and plumes and all such gor- 
 geous things. 
 
 Like the hat on the head of one's wife. 
 I expanded with joy contemplating the snap 
 
 I expected to have evermore, 
 For I fancied myself just as lucky a chap 
 
 As e'er Peter let pass through his door. 
 
 I exultingly capered about full of glee 
 
 While awaiting my warrior crown ; 
 'Twas a wonderful change for a fellow like me, 
 
 Who was told at my death I'd go down. 
 "Oh ye joys," I exclaimed, just beginning a song. 
 
 When a voice penetrated my brain, 
 With a "Blank you, wake up, and go crawling 
 along, 
 
 Or we'll never get in with this train." 
 
 IN MEMORIAM OUR GRAND CHIEF. 
 
 Today, from our hearts full of sorrow, 
 
 We mourn for our peerless Grand Chief; 
 
 We yet cannot look to the morrow, 
 To soothe the keen pangs of our grief. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 223 
 
 He suddenly passed through Ufe's portals, 
 
 Away to the star-land on high ; 
 He now ranks mid glorious immortals 
 
 On earth and above in the sky. 
 
 When all through the land flashed the tidings 
 
 His big human heart ceased to beat, 
 O'er the continent's highways and sidings, 
 
 Wherever men happened to meet, 
 Big tears of affection came falling. 
 
 And grieving bent many a head. 
 Bowed down by a sorrow appalling, 
 
 The moment we knew he was dead. 
 
 For thirty long years as our father, 
 
 Our brother, our shepherd, and friend, 
 He taught us to reason together, 
 
 The ills of our calling to end. 
 His slogan ''Defense, not Defiance," 
 
 Won legions of friends for our cause ; 
 Upon him they placed full reliance. 
 
 And on our conservative laws. 
 
 He died like a babe 'mid his Brothers, 
 
 His spirit flew gently away. 
 Life ended admonishing others 
 
 To count on it but for today, 
 And so passed from earth our great leader, 
 
 For whom we are deeply in grief ; 
 He was a most eloquent pleader. 
 
 Our honored and stainless Grand Chief. 
 
224 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 We circled his grave, and we laid him 
 
 Forever to- sleep 'neath the sod ; 
 A tearful farewell then we bade him, 
 
 Commending his soul to his God. 
 And soon all was mortal lay hidden 
 
 In Nature's hospitable breast, 
 Which seldom, if ever, had bidden 
 
 So loved and regretted a guest. 
 
 Now, Brothers, spread over three nations. 
 
 Who hung on his words with delight. 
 And thrilled at the vivid creations 
 
 Of each oratorical flight, 
 When pleading that justice be given 
 
 To those sunk in slavery's deeps, 
 Let's raise up a column toward heaven, 
 
 Denoting the place where he sleeps. 
 
 'Twill tell of our Brotherhood's glory, 
 
 And victories bloodlessly won, 
 When pleading his honorable story, 
 
 Until his great life-work was done. 
 Generations of men yet unborn, 
 
 As pilgrims shall go to that shrine, 
 Where a radiance, bright as the morn, 
 
 Shall glow round our sleeper divine. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 225 
 
 TO REV. FATHER BARRY, OSWEGO, N. Y. 
 
 Worthy father, my head is so frenzied tonight, 
 
 From effects of the concert we had at St. 
 Paul's, 
 That I cannot resist the temptation to write, 
 
 I respond to my muse that impatiently calls. 
 'Twas a treat, oh ! the grandest that ever I heard ; 
 
 And the hot Irish blood in my veins ran in fire 
 At each note of the songsters, their every word. 
 
 If for war or for love, made me mad with de- 
 sire. 
 
 There were times I could march like a warrior 
 bold, 
 And meet death on the field, with the foemen 
 in view. 
 As the strains in such sweet liquid harmony 
 rolled 
 O'er our heads, when we greeted "O'Donnell 
 Aboo." 
 And again, a soft cadence prevailed in my soul, 
 Sad and sorrowful memories, void of all joy, 
 As the singer, unconscious, held perfect control 
 Of my feelings when giving the poor "Croppy 
 Boy." 
 
 Sure, there isn't much music concealed in my 
 heels, 
 And my toes from rheumatics are swollen 
 quite big. 
 
226 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 But oh, father, they moved at the bagpiper's 
 reels, 
 And they ached for the floor in 'The Fox- 
 hunter's Jig." 
 Then when "Tatter Jack Walsh" on the chanters 
 he played, 
 Martin Hogan, who sat by my side, got insane ; 
 Every bar on our hearts most seductively played, 
 And we acted like fools who were drunk with 
 champagne. 
 
 "O'er the Hawthorn Hedge," that enchanting 
 duet. 
 Made the basement to me a bright paradise 
 seem ; 
 And, dear father, the pleasures are lingering yet 
 That surrounded me hearing 'The Lovers' 
 Young Dream." 
 "Oh, What Would You Do Love?" sent fancies 
 afloat 
 In my head far surpassing my skill to define ; 
 Samuel Lover ne'er dreamt, as that lyric he 
 wrote, 
 Mrs. Mullin would render immortal each line! 
 
 Don't you think, when she sang stirring "Rory 
 O'More" 
 That a fellow like me with a heart beating 
 human, 
 Wouldn't err, kicking marital vows on the floor, 
 For a kiss on the lips of that soul-thrilling 
 woman ? 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 227 
 
 In the Vale of Avoca forever I'd dwell 
 
 With the charming Miss Layton, delighted, 
 unshriven, 
 And, dear Father, I'd scorn all your sermons on 
 hell, 
 For I'd list to her singing and think it was 
 Heaven. 
 
 "You're immense ! Heaven bless you !" I honestly 
 say, 
 For the good you are doing right here in this 
 town. 
 All our citizens love and respect you today ; 
 For untarnished you stand in your clerical 
 gown. 
 If my poor erring heart, full of impulses wrong, 
 Has been swayed from its moorage in mid age 
 serene. 
 Please forgive, and attribute my follies to song, 
 And my love for the land that still worships 
 the green. 
 
 TO WILLIAM E. LOCKWOOD. 
 
 Friend Lockwood, while the night is young, 
 I have a ditty yet unsung. 
 Just give me your attentive ear, 
 Until its music you will hear. 
 I've often scrimmaged through my head, 
 In search of rhymes ere going to bed, 
 To dress up subjects rude and rough. 
 Which I considered pretty tough ; 
 
228 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 But, dear old friend, just now I find 
 
 A nut to crack of hardest rind; 
 
 To frankly tell you what I think, 
 
 In language smeared with printer's ink, 
 
 About that "Quest" you harp on so, 
 
 Your everlasting hammer-blow. 
 
 I've watched the wheels revolve, and sat 
 
 With doubtful fancies 'neath my hat, 
 
 As round and round they'd spin amain 
 
 Before a swiftly moving train ; 
 
 I've often thought I felt a crack 
 
 Parading up my aching back, 
 
 Around my shoulders, ribs, and sides, 
 
 On ne'er to be forgotten rides ; 
 
 I'd hear a thump above the din 
 
 Of rolling wheels as on I'd spin, 
 
 And from a heart o'ercharged with woe 
 
 I'd say: "That's Lockwood's hammer-blow. 
 
 When joints were rough in early spring 
 I'd feel some jarring round me ring, 
 And when I'd have too many cars, 
 The thumping almost reached the stars. 
 A deadhead often in the cab 
 Would fire at me his fluent gab 
 About the rods and every throw 
 Till told of Lockwood's hammer-blow. 
 The engine foreman once got on, 
 I almost felt my job was gone. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 229 
 
 He sat uneasy on the seat, 
 And seemed affected with the heat — 
 At least I thought so — till he said: 
 "Instead of snoring in the bed, 
 Key up your rods, your wedges set, 
 Or on the carpet you will sweat." 
 "Why, you'i-e mistaken," I replied, 
 "That jar you feel when opened wide 
 Is not from rods unkeyed, I'm sure, 
 Besides, the wedges are secure ; 
 Just watch the crank on downward throw, 
 You'll find it's Lockwood's hammer-blow." 
 Old friend, I took your name in vain; 
 That chap he jumped the moving train. 
 And muttered as he struck the ground ; 
 "How some men let their engines pound." 
 
 To legislative halls you go 
 Expounding on the hammer-blow 
 With railway presidents you're free 
 To call at will, and make them see 
 The strain on bridges, and on rails ! 
 When hammered by revolving flails; 
 In institutes of science, too. 
 Tough problems they receive from you; 
 You've got a flowery gift of gab 
 To win the heroes of the cab — 
 And may you live for many years 
 The sterling friend of engineers — 
 And I shall pray that, ere you die, 
 You'll look me squarely in the eye, 
 
230 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Conviction flowing from your lips, 
 Devoid of any verbal tips, 
 And showing me, beyond a doubt. 
 That you have solved the problem out. 
 Just where to find and how to go 
 To catch your famous hammer-blow. 
 
 FORGIVE AND FORGET. 
 
 A Christian is taught to feel meekly and lowly 
 
 Whenever he's scourged by a backbiter's rod. 
 That his thoughts at such times must be pure 
 and be holy, 
 And leave his traducers to settle with God; 
 If it's so, then the Lord should have not made us 
 mortals. 
 With hearts full of vengeance to pay every 
 debt ; 
 Very few manly fellows will pass heaven's por- 
 tals 
 Who know they are wronged, then forgive 
 and forget. 
 
 There are reptiles abroad with vile insinuations, 
 To poison the ears of our friends with their 
 lies, 
 Oh ! I like for such curs to feel manly tempta- 
 tions. 
 And send my clinched fist right between their 
 two eyes; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 231 
 
 It would give me more joy than to go on my 
 
 knees, boys, 
 
 And offer up prayer for their comfort, you bet, 
 
 Tisn't right, but 'twould give our hot temper 
 
 more ease, boys, 
 
 Than go by the doctrine, "forgive and forget." 
 
 'Torgive and forget!" It is tough on a fellow 
 
 Possessed of a temper impulsively strong, 
 To shorten his sails of resentment, and mellow 
 
 His thoughts 'gainst a viper that does him a 
 wrong ; 
 To know that a cur can retail his foul slander 
 
 Amongst your companions and feel no regret ; 
 The victim's no man, he is only a gander. 
 
 Who'll meekly exclaim: 'T'll forgive and for- 
 get." 
 
 ''Forgive and forget." From the mold I was 
 made in 
 I must have been taken before I was chilled, 
 And my hot disposition will last till I'm laid in 
 The grave with my heart-beats eternally 
 stilled. 
 "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth," 
 boys. 
 Is doctrine may cause us hereafter regret ; 
 Let white livered fellows, with breasts free of 
 ruth, boys. 
 Go canting and swaddling "forgive and for- 
 eet." 
 
232 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 TO JOHN A. HILL. 
 
 (Scotland or Elsewhere.) 
 
 Edinburg, Scotland, Aug. 11, '92. 
 
 "Dear Old Shandy: — Standmg to-day in the little 
 museum in the base of Bobby Burns' tomb and reading, 
 in his own handwriting, his "Kirk's Alarm," I thought 
 of you and how you would enjoy a trip through this 
 poet's paradise. I am living Scott and Burns as I tread 
 the paths they trod. 
 
 "John A. Hill." 
 
 That postal briefly tells the tale, 
 Of how you sought a favoring gale, 
 
 And sped across the sea, 
 To have your fling 'neath foreign skies, 
 And give a pitiful surprise 
 
 To poor forlorn me. 
 
 You knew I'd love to snifif the air 
 Of breezes blowing foul or fair 
 
 Along the creamy way. 
 Where salty billows tumble wild, 
 To greet a sympathetic child 
 
 Who here at toil must stay. 
 
 Alas ! I am in grief behind, 
 And vainly try to feel resigned 
 
 To poverty and woe ; 
 Oh ! how I'd love to be along, 
 To scribble up the sights in song 
 
 Of every place we'd go ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE*S POEMS 233 
 
 Just think how proudly I would hail 
 The famous Head of old Kinsale 
 
 Then looming into view ! 
 The glorious hills and valleys green, 
 And every emerald boreen, 
 
 Of nature's fairest hue! 
 
 I sported there mid childish joys, 
 Long, long before the railroad boys 
 
 Proclaimed me as their bard ; 
 But back again Til never get, 
 Unless those ocean greyhounds yet 
 
 Should recognize my card. 
 
 For my sake. Hill, with moistened eyes. 
 When roaming under Scottish skies. 
 
 Approach the winding Ayr, 
 And view those scenes where Bobby trod, 
 To praise a universal God 
 
 In many a wildcat prayer. 
 
 He didn't care a fig for creeds, 
 
 He scoffed at words, but honored deeds, 
 
 And sung a fearless song ; 
 He loved his friends, he loved a glass, 
 He dearly loved a comely lass, 
 
 And didn't think it wrong. 
 
 He loved to tilt a rhyming lance 
 On every foe he saw advance 
 Upon the suffering poor ; 
 
234 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 He sung their woes in deathless lays, 
 Till vocal grew the banks and braes, 
 The mountain and the moor. 
 
 For any purseproud, titled thing, 
 Xo matter i' it strode a king, 
 
 In trappings all aglow. 
 He didn't care a brown baubee. 
 But chorused out his lyrics free. 
 
 Denouncing tinseled show. 
 
 He starved in life, but, Lord be praised ! 
 What universal plaudits raised 
 
 The moment he was dead ! 
 Great nobles stood above his bier. 
 And on it fell full many a tear, 
 
 But Bobby's soul had fled ! 
 
 Before you leave that sacred soil. 
 On bended knees some moments toil, 
 
 In long-neglected prayer, 
 And thank the Lord that you have trod 
 Upon the consecrated sod 
 
 About the river Ayr. 
 
 If you don't know how Heaven to sue. 
 Ask Mrs. Hill to say a few. 
 
 And tell her they're for me ; 
 And tell her, also, for my sake, 
 A trip to Ireland she must make. 
 
 Earth's grandest sights to see. 
 
SHANDY MAGiaRK's POEMS 235 
 
 Don't fail, avick ! don't e'er come back 
 Until the land of Paddy Whack 
 
 Your patent leathers touch ; 
 You'll find more wonders to the mile, 
 More sights your senses to beguile, 
 
 Than 'mongst the French or Dutch. 
 
 Let vSinclair run things over here, 
 While from Avoca to Cape Clear, 
 
 You roam on pleasure's wing ; 
 And when I clasp your fist once more 
 I'll have you tell your ramblings o'er. 
 
 And of them I shall sing. 
 
 THE LAND OF NOD. 
 
 Oh, I love to dwell in the land of Nod, 
 Where the clover blossoms deck the sod ; 
 Where the grasses sway in the gentle breeze 
 And the songsters mate on the leafy trees; 
 Where the insects hum in a drowsy way 
 And the sparkling fountains always play ; 
 Where the brain can roam in its fancy free- 
 Oh, the land of Nod is the land for me. 
 
 I'm a tourist oft in the land of Nod, 
 In its verdant groves I have ofttimes trod ; 
 In its primrose lanes and its cool retreats 
 I delight to stro'.l and enjoy their sweets; 
 
236 SHANDY maguire's poems 
 
 In its mossy dells and luxuriant shades, 
 
 On its crystal streams, through its vocal glades, 
 
 I can laugh at care with its cruel sting, 
 
 And can float around on a buoyant Vv^ing. 
 
 I can smoke my pipe in the land of Nod, 
 Without any fear of a chastening rod ; 
 I can couch a lance for a tilt with pride. 
 And can tan a jeweled upstart's hide; 
 I can make a dive dow^n to sultry climes, 
 And can tell the sights in my jingling rhymes. 
 What I saw and heard in those regions deep — 
 Oh, the land I love is the land of sleep ! 
 
 I can soar aloft beyond distant skies, 
 And behold the blest with my dreaming eyes ; 
 Where the weary souls of poor enginemen 
 Have at last found peace in some mossy glen ; 
 Where a snow plow, flanger or ''grunting hog" 
 Is a thing unknown, where they have no fog ; 
 Where a train dispatcher, with all his airs, 
 Gets a downward kick if he climbs the stairs. 
 
 In the land of Nod I have boundless wealth ' 
 And my limbs are spry with the spring of health, 
 Not a pain can mar the delights I feel 
 When I'm touring there, and it all seems real ; 
 But the ''caller's" thump in the morning gray 
 Is a doleful sound, for it drives away 
 Every vision fair, which my fancy cheers, 
 In the land of Nod, that I leave in tears. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 117 
 
 AIR BALLOONING. 
 
 With regards to Cy Warman, Author of " Sweet Ttlarit.' 
 
 Dear Cy, I've got them bad tonight, 
 The gleesome imps insist I write 
 
 A home-made stave or two. 
 On sundry things which fill my head, 
 Before I seek my welcome bed, 
 
 Then fire the mass at yon. 
 
 The various topics which 77/ touch 
 Will hardly interest you much. 
 
 But they will ease my mind ; 
 Too well you know the homely train 
 Of sprightly fancies in my brain 
 
 In doggerel mills I grind. 
 
 I'd like to soar the same as you 
 Above the earth, amid the blue 
 
 Of summer's lovely skies ; 
 But when I get on pinions bent, 
 To pierce the glorious firmament, 
 
 My courage quickly dies. ^ 
 
 I wish I had a safe ..alloon 
 
 To carry two up toward the moon, 
 
 I'd have you come along; 
 And Cy, within our airy car, 
 We'd wing our way from star to star, 
 
 And fill up space with song. 
 
238 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 We'd soar above this sordid earth, 
 And evermore devote to mirth — 
 
 I'd Hsten while you'd sing — 
 Suppose I fancy we're afloat 
 Upon a safe, inflated boat, 
 
 And off on joyous wing? 
 
 Oh, glory! how the earth recedes. 
 
 Its hates and heartaches, strifes and grcc;I 
 
 Contentions, woes and spleen — 
 Say, Cy ; we've soared aloft too quick, 
 We should have paused one friend to pic!., 
 
 And brought along Pauline. 
 
 Ah, well ! too late ! Here, take a smoke, 
 Don't at the snide I give you joke, 
 
 It's not a fragrant brand ; 
 If I'd the means we'd both enjoy 
 The choicest capaduros, boy, 
 
 From Cuba's sunny land. 
 
 Oh! isn't this most glorious fun! 
 We're floating high above each dun 
 
 I've hustled from behind ; 
 My heart has bid adieu to care. 
 And in this pure, delightful air, 
 
 I have a happy mind. 
 
 See how the smoke we puff is tossed, 
 /\nd circles like a clean exhaust, 
 From out an engine's stack! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 239 
 
 Bend o'er the car, and Cy, look down 
 Upon the disappearing town 
 To which we'll ne'er go back ! 
 
 Farewell, old earth, to all your ills, 
 Dead engines, snowdrifts, hunger, chills, 
 
 Rough joints and stringent rules ; 
 We'll never more return, I hope. 
 To soil our hands with dirty dope, 
 
 Or labor there like mules. 
 
 In drudgery I've toiled for bread. 
 
 My heart at times weighed down like lead, 
 
 But had sufficient cause ; 
 Bereft of hope, avoiding crimes, 
 Buoyed up again when scribbling rhymes. 
 
 Which won me faint applause. 
 
 Define me, Cy, the thing called fame, 
 That's hailed so often with acclaim ; 
 
 We'll both agree, I think, 
 It doesn't recompense the toil 
 When sought for by the midnight oil 
 
 With weary pen and ink. 
 
 Behold that disappearing spot. 
 Where many years I've vainly wrought 
 
 The siren fair to woo ; 
 To-morrow's sunshine will efface 
 My very name, while off through space 
 
 I'm roystering with you. 
 
240 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 A sculptured stone is poor reward 
 To compensate a mouldering bard 
 
 When maggots round him crawl. 
 This flight will both our bodies save, 
 From all the horrors of the grave, 
 
 Which terrorizes all. 
 
 Oh, hang such moralizing. We 
 ' Are out upon a boundless sea. 
 
 Ne'er sailed by man before ! 
 Our air-balloon is swift and strong, 
 We'll make our hearts exult with song, 
 
 And sing for evermore. 
 
 The breeze which gently woos us now. 
 Dispels the wrinkles from my brow, 
 
 Cut by the lash of care, 
 On that forsaken spot I left. 
 Where night and day I groaned bereft 
 
 Of all things but despair. 
 
 Now up with speed to airy heights, 
 Till we behold the grandest sights 
 
 E'er seen by human eyes ! 
 My tide of life is bounding free. 
 And at its flood, for soon I'll see 
 
 The glories of the skies ! 
 
 Behold the brilliant lamps of night 
 Now beaming on our raptured sight 
 Adorning Luna's train ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 241 
 
 Oh, heavenly joys! How glad I feel! 
 If up I'd stand I know I'd reel, 
 As drunk as with champagne ! 
 
 How often, Cy, in balmy June, 
 We've gazed in languor on yon moon, 
 
 With fair ones at our sides ! 
 We'll soon discover if she's dead. 
 And if it's true what oft we've read, 
 
 That she controls the tides. 
 
 Some fellows like to have her dark, 
 Whene'er they're out upon a lark, 
 
 To hide suspicious ways ; 
 But we adore her silvery beams 
 Reflected in the babbling streams. 
 
 Devoid of cloud or haze. 
 
 We're heading for the Milky Way, 
 We'll reach it ere the break of day. 
 
 If we maintain this pace ! 
 Throw out some ballast ! Let us soar 
 Up higher still, and evermore 
 
 We'll navigate through space ! 
 
 We'll quaff the sunbright glories deep 
 When up the Orient he'll leap, 
 
 To run another day! 
 We'll visit realms to man unknown. 
 And fondly hope Jehovah's Throne 
 
 We'll meet with on our way ! 
 
242 SHANDY maguire's poems 
 
 See Venus, Cy ! We'll steer for her ! 
 You've always been a worshipper 
 
 Before her shrine below. 
 What! not for there? We'll then for Mars- 
 Here, let us light some fresh cigars, 
 
 They'll make om- fancies flow. 
 
 How swift we cut the atmosphere ! 
 Who'll dare to sing of engineer 
 
 And flying steed again? 
 They're crawling snails compared to us ; 
 Oh ! what an advertising fuss 
 
 Men make about a train. 
 
 That star so full of diamond light, 
 Now bursting on our ravished sight, 
 
 Is Saturn, I believe ; 
 We will explore its rings to know, 
 If what we've studied down below 
 
 About them but deceive. 
 
 Behold the Dipper over there ! 
 Out yonder's Cassiopeia's Chair ! 
 
 Polaris here you see ! 
 Now note the Dragon and Giraffe — 
 How dare you at such wonders laugh? 
 
 Or is it meant for me ? 
 
 The constellations are ablaze ! 
 And sending forth a song of praise 
 Ne'er heard bv human ears ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 243 
 
 What melody our hearts entrance ! 
 It surely fills the whole expanse, 
 'Tis ''music of the spheres." 
 
 What groveling, pigmy, crawling things 
 Are earth's great nabobs, princes, kings, 
 
 Compared with you and me ! 
 Oh, how the life-blood through my veins 
 Is coursing in delicious strains ! 
 
 Great God be thanked, we're free ! 
 
 Here comes a comet, Cy, beware ! 
 Tis passed, but not before each hair 
 
 Stood straight upon my head ! 
 The valve-rope pull, old friend, I'm sick; 
 With Kitty and the babe, avick, 
 
 I'll soon be in the bed. 
 
 TO HIS HOLINESS, POPE LEO XIII. 
 
 (** The Queen of Spain has asked the Holy Father to pray 
 for the success of the Spanish cause." — Press Dispatch.) 
 
 Don't you do it, Holy Father, do not send a 
 single prayer 
 
 Up to God to bless the Spaniards or their worth- 
 less lives to spare. 
 
 Sure religion was unminded by the Inquisition 
 pack, 
 
 Till they fooled with Yankee Doodle and got 
 Stretched upon their back; 
 
244 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Now they ask you in their terror up above to 
 
 intercede, 
 To protect them from destruction in this hour 
 
 of dreadful need ; 
 Ere Her Majesty you answer, will you ask her 
 
 to explain 
 Why she didn't seek your counsel before blowing 
 
 up the "Maine?" 
 
 "When the devil he was ailing," — sure you know 
 
 the adage well — 
 He would like to be an angel, and not paramount 
 
 in hell ; 
 Now the Dons have got a colic, but our gallant 
 
 Yankee tars 
 Will adjust their indigestion with a dose of 
 
 Stripes and Stars. 
 And, your Holiness, just watch them hunt the 
 
 vermin to their holes — 
 We'll consent to let you offer up some masses 
 
 for their souls — 
 But a single word don't murmur to the God of 
 
 truth and right. 
 To enable them to meet us with a chance to win 
 
 a fight. 
 
 Think of how this glorious nation always opened 
 
 wide its doors 
 To receive the tortured people driven off from 
 
 foreign shores ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 245 
 
 And, your Holiness, remember in the days of 
 
 forty-eight. 
 How the Yanke ships were laden to the water's 
 
 edge with wheat, 
 To relieve the starving people of poor Paddy's 
 
 sainted sod, 
 Those whose hearts have never wavered to Your 
 
 Holiness and God. 
 Where was Spain among the nations? Did she 
 
 hungry peasants feed? 
 Not a mouthful, while our people never thought 
 
 of clime or creed. 
 
 Now, by gosh! we will repay them just the same 
 as sixty-one, 
 
 We will help brave Yankee Doodle to annihilate 
 the Don. 
 
 So upon your knees assist us, for religion here is 
 free, 
 
 Every church in peace may flourish from the 
 mountains to the sea. 
 
 And if for no other reason than to praise Al- 
 mighty God, 
 
 Either inside a cathedral, or upon the verdant 
 sod. 
 
 You should send a kind petition up through Jor- 
 dan's golden gates 
 
 To the Lord to always bless us here in these 
 United States. 
 
246 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 Holy Father, now remember, don't articulate a 
 
 word 
 To the glorious God of battles to assist the 
 
 Spanish sword, 
 For we've Dewey, and we've Sampson, yes, and 
 
 gallant Fighting Bob, 
 Hell to fill with souls of Spaniards, we have 
 
 given them the job! 
 And I guess the Lord will aid them, for the vic- 
 tims of the Maine, 
 Up before His great tribunal got the first word 
 
 in on Spain. 
 'Twas a damnable explosion, but the Yankee 
 
 cannon barks 
 Out a vengeance for our sailors in the stomachs 
 
 of the sharks. 
 
 Don't you do it, Holy Father, Spain's not worth 
 
 a tinker's dam. 
 And besides, the Lord has always made a chum 
 
 of Uncle Sam. 
 I no disrespect am showing by addressing you 
 
 this song, 
 I was mad to think she'd ask you to assist in 
 
 doing wrong; 
 Think of all the starving creatures she sent 
 
 Weyler here to shoot! 
 Did she in those days consult you? No! that 
 
 treacherous galoot 
 
SHANDV .MACUIRe's POEMS 247 
 
 Was encourage.! in his slaughter, but our 
 
 Yankee ships and tars 
 Will above their graves in Cuba float the glorious 
 
 Stripes and Stars. 
 
 THE KETTJRN OF THE ROBIN. 
 
 We've pulled through another winter — 'twas a 
 
 touch and go for life — 
 Ere we heard your welcome whistle, at the fag- 
 end of the strife ; 
 But who can tell the hardships that we had to 
 
 undergo, 
 Since you plumed your wings and left us at the 
 
 first sign of the snow ! 
 We can simply say we're living in a hang-on 
 
 sort of way, 
 With our pluck about at zero, neither fit for 
 
 work nor play. 
 On account of drastic weather, since the day you 
 
 sallied forth 
 For the sunny Southern valleys, to escape the 
 
 frozen north. 
 
 We kept at the fight courageous, though we 
 
 didn't much enthuse. 
 For we waged unequal battle, with old summer 
 
 ballahoos, 
 Pounding, leaking, blowing, dying in the cuts or 
 
 on the grades. 
 While the gales in vengeful fury never ceased 
 
 their fearful raids; 
 
248 SHANdV MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 Shoveling drifts or picking flanges, jacking up 
 
 or thawing out, 
 Yanking throttle bars and levers, watching 
 
 crown-sheets full of doubt. 
 And for ninety days and over not a sun ray did 
 
 we spy. 
 While we froze and fought and hungered 'neath 
 
 a wild mid-arctic skv. 
 
 You are welcome, gladly welcome. You are 
 
 fairer far to see 
 Than my first love was the evening when she 
 
 cuddled up to me. 
 There's more music in your whistle than the 
 
 songs she sang of love. 
 When I fancied her an angel, sent me down from 
 
 Jove above. 
 There's a pleasure in your piping for the ears of 
 
 railway slaves, 
 Who have been from death respited, and not 
 
 now stretched in our graves. 
 Mate and sing, and feed and frolic till the sun 
 
 sets every day, 
 For we longed for your returning ever since you 
 
 went away. 
 
SHANDV MAGUIRe's POEMS 249 
 
 A WINTRY WAIL. 
 
 Here we are, a fighting army, at the northern 
 hills and lakes ; 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 We are chilled, benumbed and tortured with the 
 hunger and the shakes ; 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 V.'c are at our posts of duty, fighting bravely 
 
 night and day. 
 With our snow-plows and our flanges, as we try 
 
 to clear the way. 
 But our hearts are nothing daunted, and we're 
 eager for the fray. 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst, 
 do your worst. 
 
 You assail us with your fury, and you make our 
 
 bosoms dr^ar, 
 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 
 You attack us in the forefront, on the flanks, and 
 
 in the rear ; 
 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 
 Oh! you pelt us with a vengeance from your 
 
 heartless icy throne ; 
 And your snowflakes pound our bodies just like 
 
 missiles made of stone, 
 Yet, amongst the railroad army there is not a 
 coward drone. 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst, 
 do vour worst. 
 
250 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 You impede the wheels of progress with your 
 
 frequent snow-blockades ; 
 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 
 You exert a devil's fury when you catch us on 
 
 the grades. 
 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 
 How you batter at our noses till they are an inky 
 
 hue! 
 And you penetrate the marrow of the dauntless 
 
 engine crew, 
 Till an old maid's heart would scorn man in such 
 a shape to view. 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst, 
 do your worst. 
 
 You contest the revolutions of our slowly mov- 
 ing wheels. 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 And the tear of madness rolling, on our grimy 
 cheeks congeals. 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 And the fire-box for a hen house isn't one degree 
 
 too hot, 
 Scarcely heat enough within it to scald water 
 
 in a pot. 
 Like the way some boarding houses make such 
 tea as stomachs rot ! 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst, 
 do your worst. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 251 
 
 We have got a brave commander, and right soon 
 
 you'll hear him sing, 
 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst 
 
 In the rivers, on the mountains ; and he'll make 
 
 the flowers spring. 
 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 
 He will send his rays to cheer us and dispel your 
 
 piercing blast. 
 He'll dissolve the ammunition that you freely at 
 
 us cast. 
 And he'll o'er you be a victor for the vengeance 
 of the past. 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst, 
 do your worst. 
 
 Soon again we'll hear the warbling of the silver- 
 throated birds, 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 And our lips, articulating, will be musical in 
 words. 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst. 
 And the smiles of beauty beaming will salute 
 
 us as we run, 
 And the fields, like panoramas, will be blooming 
 
 in the sun, 
 And the cabs grow reminiscent as we tell about 
 the fun. 
 Hoary Winter, cruel Winter, do your worst, 
 do your worst. 
 
2S2 shandV maguirf/s poems 
 
 THE PICTURE ON THE WALL. 
 
 Gentle reader, there are moments 
 
 In a man's eventful life 
 When he'll calmly sit and ponder 
 
 'Twixt the future and the past ; 
 When he'll grasp the glorious present, 
 
 Willi its rays of sunshine rife, 
 As he views some simple object 
 
 That enchains his mem'ry fast ; 
 It will set his mind to thinking, 
 
 Just as mine is doing now. 
 And the blissful thoughts of pleasure 
 
 Are delightful to recall. 
 Retrospection, smiling sweetly, 
 
 Sits enthroned upon my brow, 
 As I gaze in silent rapture 
 
 At a picture on the wall. 
 
 'Tis an unattractive object, 
 
 Which you'd scarcely pause to view ; 
 It is not in gorgeous colors. 
 
 No rich setting can you trace, 
 Well, in confidence I'll mention 
 
 For enlightenment of you. 
 That it has no lines of beauty, 
 
 To illuminate the place ; 
 But the pictures of old masters, 
 
 Lit with glory and renown. 
 Couldn't give me half the pleasure, 
 
 Such sweet joy could not recall, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE'S POEMS 253 
 
 Tho' they bore the stamp of genius, 
 Through the ages looking down, 
 
 As that simple print before me, 
 The dear picture on the wall. 
 
 If the babbling brooks, in music, 
 
 Purling onward to the sea, 
 Were portrayed upon the canvas 
 
 With a master's famous skill ; 
 As meandering through meadows, 
 
 Stored with honey for the bee, 
 They were crowned with all the glory 
 
 And the genius of his will ; 
 If all birds of brightest plumage, 
 
 Winging 'neath the skies of June, 
 Should surround me with their singing. 
 
 In their richest carols all, 
 There would not be found such rapture 
 
 In the most melodious tune 
 As my fancy has to please it 
 
 With that picture on the wall. 
 
 Now, methinks I hear you asking 
 
 What such loveliness can be. 
 And what hidden meaning's running 
 
 In the stanzas I indite; 
 But, be patient, gentle reader, 
 
 And you'll soon be wise as me. 
 The solution of the riddle 
 
 I will furnish you tonight; 
 
254 SHAN'DY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 'Tis a little spot, no bigger 
 
 Than my darling's dimpled hand- 
 And ril tell you in strict confidence 
 
 Her hand is very small — 
 Now, draw nearer, every reader 
 
 That I have throughout the land, 
 Tis — I hope you'll not betray me — 
 
 'Tis that picture on the wall ! 
 
 A FEIEND OF LONG AGO. 
 
 Dear "J^^k," my friend of long ago, 
 
 So long I scarce remember, 
 Some twenty changeful years or so 
 
 It must be this December. 
 To-night I'm living with the past. 
 
 Ere you grow rich and haughty, 
 Until we cut our bonds at last. 
 
 In language fierce and naughty. 
 
 Those by-gone times we both enjoyed. 
 
 We built air castles daily, 
 When not in active work employed, 
 
 And time slipped by us gaily ; 
 Until the night at Farley's dance. 
 
 When old Jack Regan's daughter 
 Upon your breastworks did advance. 
 
 And soon your heart did slaughter. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS ^ 
 
 She was a buxom widow, Jack, 
 
 Quite proud and full of money ; 
 Besides, so long upon time's track, 
 
 She well could call you "sonny." 
 You sold your splendid manhood for 
 
 Her wrinkled phiz and riches ; 
 And Fanny Deans you jilted her, 
 
 One of Eve's fairest witches. 
 
 I'll ne'er forget how quick you changed 
 
 When fast in Judy's traces ; 
 To old companions soon estranged. 
 
 And old familiar places. 
 You quickly learned to pass us by, 
 
 Your nose at such an angle, 
 It always pointed to the sky, 
 
 Old cronies' nods to strangle. 
 
 The seasons rolled on rapid wings, 
 
 And turkey-tracks came dancing 
 On Judy's brows in bounds and springs 
 
 Adown the years advancing. 
 With all her wealth she couldn't stay 
 
 The hands upon time's dial ; 
 They never yet have brooked delay 
 
 Nor listened to denial. 
 
 You're growing old, you're forty-five. 
 Both crimson-nosed and gouty ; 
 
 Besides the haughtiest gent alive, 
 
 Rich, cross-grained, sour and :^outy, 
 
256 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 A childless man, in failing health — 
 Oh, hang it. Jack, I^d rather 
 
 Be what I am than have your wealth, 
 With none to call me "father." 
 
 Your wife is sixty now, or more; 
 
 Her gray head on a pillow 
 Must cut your gizzard to the core 
 
 Until you'd wish a willow 
 Was drooping years above her grave. 
 
 But, Jack, she will outlive you ; 
 For money you became her slave, 
 
 God pity and forgive you ! 
 
 How happy might your lot have been 
 
 With Fanny Deans, dear girl ! 
 If you, like many noble men. 
 
 Had wed for love. Jack Tyrrell ! 
 She'd make your life as sweet as joys 
 
 Bees sip on flowery heather ; 
 And, Jack, amid your girls and boys, 
 
 You'd both grow old together. 
 
 She couldn't call you "an old fool," 
 
 Nor you call her "old granny ;" 
 The records in Tim Daley's school 
 
 Make you one age with Fanny. 
 She couldn't claim you wed her for 
 
 Her former husband's money 
 Like Judy does ; and Jack, begor ! 
 
 Fan's lips were sweet as honey ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS " 257 
 
 In long gone days, in olden times, 
 
 When we were young and hearty, 
 You used to sing my jingling rhymes 
 
 At many a dance and party. 
 Sing these! They'll jog your mind, I'm sure. 
 
 And send it backward turning, 
 To days when you were blithe and poor, 
 
 And not for riches mourning. 
 
 I'd never write this tirade, Jack, 
 
 But that today you passed me. 
 And on me turned your haughty back, 
 
 Which very much distressed me. 
 I can't endure an upstart's pride, 
 
 Nor jeweled ignoramus; 
 Yourself and Judy, side by side, 
 
 For both of these are famous. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM A. B. YOUNGSON. 
 
 Another new grave of a brother 
 
 Just covered with emerald sod, 
 Within a few days of the other 
 
 Great leader, who's now with his God; 
 Another sad vigil of weeping 
 
 Bemoaning our heart-rending loss, 
 And haunting the places they're sleeping 
 
 While meekly we're bearing our cross. 
 
258 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Oh, Yoiingson, so modest and gentle, 
 
 So noble, so kind and so true 
 Endowed with great qualities mental, 
 
 By nature bestowed on but few ; 
 Dear heart, fifty thousand regret you, 
 
 And moisten your grave with their tears 
 Faithful brothers, who'll never forget you, 
 
 But think of you fondly for years. 
 
 He rose from the ranks by his merit ; 
 
 Our noble old Moses oft said : 
 Great friend-winning ways he'd inherit 
 
 And we'd be devotedly led ; 
 Alas, how the Fates have been weaving 
 
 The web of his untimely doom, 
 Today for his loss we're all grieving. 
 
 And wet-eyed surrounding his tomb ! 
 
 For the good of our cause he kept moving, 
 
 His heart was a stranger to guile ; 
 No friend from his side e'er went roving. 
 
 But thrilled in the light of his smile. 
 Magnetic in hand-grasp and greeting — 
 
 Both fervid and truthful in speech, 
 Alas, that his hours were so fleeting, 
 
 When leadership came within reach ! 
 
 Many years have we lived without crosses, 
 The Lord to our Order was true, 
 ' Today, while we weep for our losses. 
 
 Let's keep His great goodness in view ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 We must not despair, but courageous 
 The old cause must ever more on, 
 
 Our creed from hope's hill-top presages 
 Our mission on earth is not done. 
 
 I Again let us pledge our devotion 
 
 To methods of management wise, 
 While filled with pathetic emotion 
 
 For those looking down from the skies ; 
 "Defense" yet Ave'll cry, not "defiance," 
 
 Conservative methods are best, 
 Upon them we place full reliance, 
 
 Because thev've withstood everv test. 
 
 IN SUMMER TIME. 
 
 Come, Jack, get out your old dudheen, 
 
 ril put the blower on mine, 
 We'll smoke and view the landscape green. 
 
 While running o'er the line. 
 God's smiles are brightly beaming now, 
 
 His priceless gifts are seen ^ 
 
 In valleys fair, on mountain's brow, 
 
 The atmosphere's serene ; 
 So while we smoke, we'll moralize 
 
 Amid the wreaths we blow, 
 With heartfelt thanks, and humid eyes, 
 
 For all his gifts below. 
 
260 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 Behold that grove with verdure drest 
 
 'Longside us in the glade, 
 Where happy song birds mate and nest, 
 
 Protected by its shade ; 
 Observe the drove of drowsy kine, 
 
 And little lambkins play — 
 The Lord be thanked, old pard of mine 
 
 All Nature smiles today. 
 No human tongue can sound the praise 
 
 Of such luxuriance given 
 By Him who sent us summer days 
 
 Directly down from Heaven. 
 
 Our human hearts, though often chilled 
 
 By pangs of bitter woe. 
 Have moments when they're grandly thrilled, 
 
 And burgeon in the glow 
 Of sunny skies, of landscape bright. 
 
 Of fields bedecked with flowers ; 
 Such scenes of ravishing delight 
 
 Can charm me. Jack, for hours. 
 The little birds, the humming bees, 
 
 The brooklet, babbling by, 
 Can make me fall on bended knees 
 
 To praise Him in the sky. 
 
 What if we ached some months ago 
 
 With hunger, cold, and pain, 
 And bodies buried in the snow, 
 
 While digging out a train, 
 With icicles upon our clothes, 
 
 And little food to eat, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 261 
 
 The crimson hue fled from our nose, 
 
 And feeHng from our feet, 
 Such scenes as these around us, Jack, 
 
 Of meadow, lake and wood. 
 Dispel the suffering of the track. 
 
 When hardships chilled our blood. 
 
 There's joy upon this earth of ours 
 
 For all whose bosoms thrill 
 'Mid emerald fields, 'mid perfumed flowers, 
 
 By river, lake, and hill. 
 Intoxicating draughts of bliss 
 
 Old Nature gives to all. 
 In flowing bowls, at times like this, 
 
 Responsive to our call ; 
 The poor man here may slake his thirst 
 
 As freely as a king, 
 Upon her bosom kindly nurst, 
 
 Lulled by the songs she'll sing. 
 
 Our trip is ended now, my boy, 
 
 Our pipes have ceased to draw ; 
 And, Jack, we've tasted thrilling joy 
 
 Amongst the sights we saw. 
 Beneath the skies of deepest blue, 
 
 In God's grand temple here, 
 This song of praise from me and you 
 
 We've offered up sincere ; 
 It will ascend beyond the stars, 
 
 And reach His ears divine, 
 As surely from this train of cars. 
 
 As from cathedral shrine. 
 
262 SHANDY MAGUIRB's POEMS 
 
 HAIL AND FAREWELL. 
 
 Another year has sped aw^y, 
 
 And yet, thank God, we are not clay. 
 
 No churchyard ghouls purloined our bones. 
 
 Nor sculptors wrought our names on stones. 
 
 Our wives — perhaps against their will — 
 
 Instead of widows, wives are still, 
 
 And may the Lord for many a year 
 
 Ne'er let them shed a widow's tear. 
 
 Come boys, who love my pious pen. 
 
 Endorse my prayer, and say "Amen." 
 
 Eighteen hundred and eighty-nine 
 
 No longer o'er our heads shall shine ; 
 
 'Tis eighteen hundred and ninety now, 
 
 Another wrinkle on the brow, 
 
 Another peg upon life's road. 
 
 By which reluctantly v/e've strode, 
 
 Mid sighs and groans, mid smiles and tears. 
 
 Like many long-departed years. 
 
 And thus 'twill ever be, kind friends. 
 
 Until life's weary struggle ends. 
 
 Oh ! who can tell how soon we'll sleep 
 
 Within some grave both dark and deep? 
 
 Ah! well, we cannot stay the years — 
 
 I'll rhyme for smiles instead of tears. 
 
 Come, Sargent, take my proffered fist. 
 And let me feel how you can shake, 
 
 I'd wrench yours ofif just at the wrist. 
 But for vour wife and Mabel's sake. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 263 
 
 What's this in the decanter here? 
 
 Ha! ha! 'tis full of crimson juice! 
 Come, fill the glass with honest cheer, 
 
 And hang the man who does refuse 
 To drink good health and future joy 
 
 To those who toil within the cab. 
 Drink deep to every stalwart bo}-, 
 
 And never mind how critics blab. 
 Here, Debs, clas]) hands, relax your brow, 
 
 And let your genius rest awhile ; 
 'Tis not the time to ponder now 
 
 On things abstruse ; today we'll smile 
 At all the venomed stings of fate — 
 
 Lord knows they're numerous enough — 
 We've discord, envy, slander, hate. 
 
 Each day to pierce us quantum suff. 
 Here, drink this toast — 'tis water. Gene, 
 
 That sparkles brightly in my glass. 
 And readers of the Magazine 
 
 May know inside my lips don't pass 
 A stronger liquid, just because 
 
 I dare not trust my fevered brain 
 To violate some social laws 
 
 With flowing bumpers of champagne — 
 "Here's may the year we enter on 
 
 Our two great Brotherhoods restore 
 To friendship, "from our counsels gone. 
 
 And lead us back to peace once more." 
 Ah ! well, old friends, each empty glass 
 
 Bespeaks your wishes most sincere ; 
 Who knows but ere a month shall pass 
 
 We'll say, ''God bless this glorious year?" 
 
264 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 FREAKS OF INDIGESTION. 
 
 T'other night to Pluto's regions, at a speed sur- 
 passing thought, 
 
 My poor self, despite remonstrance, on a wild- 
 cat train was brought ; 
 
 Down I went through dismal tunnels, passing 
 China on my route. 
 
 Where the natives dine luxurious on a cast-off 
 cowhide boot ; 
 
 Where the rats and mice and vermin are the Pig- 
 tails' daily food, 
 
 Ere they leave the Flowery Kingdom and upon 
 our shores intrude. 
 
 Tt was melancholy riding, not a streak of light 
 was seen. 
 
 Till a scabby looking trainman sung out loudly, 
 "Fiddler's Green !" 
 
 Here a stop was made a second — just a second 
 and no more. 
 
 To kick off some train dispatchers whose con- 
 ceited days were o'er. 
 
 Next we sped by Hell's Half Acre — 'tis a little 
 
 spot of ground 
 Where some engineers and firemen in a painless 
 
 state are found — 
 Curving around a jagged mountain, where the 
 
 flames were leaping high, 
 I began to notice objects and some painful ones 
 
 did spy. 
 
SHANDV MAGI'TRe's POEMS 265 
 
 Yet we never paused an instant till we reached a 
 
 level plain 
 With a mammoth union depot into which we ran 
 
 the train. 
 It required no stretch of fancy the locality to tell, 
 For a blind man with his nostrils might be sure 
 
 that it was— Well, 
 I sincerelv hope my readers may ne'er find the 
 
 cursed place, 
 For 'twill always be a damned spot, terrorizing 
 
 Adam's race. 
 
 What a din of countless voices was resounding 
 
 ■in my ears ! 
 I surveyed the crowd a moment but I saw no 
 
 engineers, 
 Not a solitary fireman, nor a brakeman was there 
 
 nigh, 
 But, oh Lord! a million other railroad dudes I 
 
 did espy ! 
 And I thought I knew some faces— boys who 
 
 played the game alone 
 A few \ears ago with vengeance, so they'd 
 
 clamber near the throne. 
 
 I saw half-a-dozen wipers with their fingers light 
 
 as air. 
 Boys who picked my cab locks nightly, taking 
 
 things I couldn't spare ; 
 
266 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 I saw many supei.ntendents of the good old days 
 
 gone by. 
 Who expected when they'd pass us on our faces 
 
 we should lie; 
 
 I saw several directors who had schemes for get- 
 ting rich 
 
 Paying scrip to us who labored, that was trouble- 
 some as itch ; 
 
 It was sure to keep us scratching round among 
 the men of trade, 
 
 'Twas a miserable existence 'neath their manage- 
 ment we made. 
 
 I saw preachers there distracted, who in pulpits 
 
 foamed in rage, 
 And denounced their congregations as the ])ar- 
 
 iahs of the age ; 
 Sure enough the devil had them, yet I marveled 
 
 much, because 
 I supposed a crown of glory was for all who 
 
 preached God's laws ! 
 
 I saw demagogues in thousands who were never 
 
 known to toil. 
 But kept hourly agitating that all honest wealth 
 
 was spoil. 
 That all things should be divided so they'd get 
 
 an equal share ; 
 Judging from their wails of anguish, heaven 
 
 heard at last their prayer. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 267 
 
 There were many red-nosed topers who drank 
 days and nights on earth, 
 
 Never thinking of their children or the wives 
 who gave them birth. 
 
 I saw bigots of all nations, who went round the 
 land like bulls, 
 
 Whose contracted hearts are harder than the 
 Ethiopians' skulls, 
 
 Fiends, who spent their days proclaiming heav- 
 en's vengeance swift and strong 
 
 Would be dealt to those who didn't to their nar- 
 row creeds belong. 
 
 I saw sights surpassing Dante's I am powerless 
 
 to describe. 
 For before my startled vision moved full many 
 
 an anguished tribe ; 
 My descriptive pen is feeble such fierce tortures 
 
 to portray. 
 Oh ! I made Herculean efiforts from that place 
 
 to get away, 
 Till a sad, heart-rending wailing burst upon my 
 
 startled ear. 
 All my teeth began to chatter, and my eyeballs 
 
 shook with fear, 
 And a strange, unearthly figure totter'd up to 
 
 where I stood. 
 Asking for a drink of water to cool ofif its boil- 
 ing blood ! 
 
268 SHANDY maguire's poems 
 
 I surveyed it but a second, and what startled 
 
 me the most, 
 Was its fierce articulation, tho' it seemed to 
 
 surely roast ! 
 There it pleaded in a language that thrilled 
 
 through my heart and brain. 
 And besought nie not to leave it till I'd help to 
 
 still its pain ! 
 I inquired its name — it told me that Johii Living- 
 ston 'twas called. 
 In the stupor of astonishment I stood almost 
 
 appalled ! 
 All my old-time indignation, which I felt in days 
 
 gone by, 
 At the sufferings of the creature from my bosom 
 
 then did hie. 
 With an honesty of purpose and a moisture on 
 
 my nose 
 I conversed with it as follows, telling how I'd 
 
 ease it woes : 
 
 "I'll go fetch the Arctic Ocean and a dozen ice- 
 bergs here. 
 And I'll labor hard to chill vou, for vou loved an 
 
 If old foes would now behold you for an instant 
 
 in your grief. 
 How they'd dive down here in thousands till 
 
 they'd give you some relief ! 
 They'd be sure to come barefooted; if they kept 
 
 their cowhides on 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 269 
 
 They might kick up quite a shindy for the days 
 now past and gone. 
 
 There ! don't cry ! I didn't mean it, you are suf- 
 fering enough, 
 
 And I really feel quite sorry, for your lot is 
 pretty tough. 
 
 I'll be back here in a jiffy, now keep still till I'll 
 return, 
 
 Tho' you were a mischief maker, it's too bad to 
 see you burn." 
 
 From its presence in a hurry round I started to 
 arise 
 
 And awoke from out my slumber filled with hor- 
 rible surprise. 
 
 For the caller he was thumping like a thunder- 
 bolt, the rogue ! 
 
 And bewailing his exertions in this fluent Span- 
 ish brogue : 
 
 *'Arrah, what the divil ails ye? Are ye tongue- 
 tied in the bed? 
 
 If ye don't get up, bejabers, I'll go back and say 
 ver dead." 
 
 aUERIES ASKED THE DEITY. 
 
 Great Jehovah ! tonight I my duty must do 
 
 Ere I stretch on the bed, and commune some 
 
 with you • 
 I am weary and hungry ; a porterhouse steak 
 Would delight me to munch, for with hunger I 
 
 ache; 
 
270 SHANDY MAGUIRF's POEMS 
 
 But alas and alas, I have not got the wealth 
 To buy porterhouse steak, for the good of my 
 
 health, 
 So, like every poor devil that hustles for meat, 
 A tough chunk of bull beef I diurnally eat. 
 
 You endowed me with taste and with appetite 
 
 good. 
 But deny me choice dishes of excellent food, 
 If I covet the viands that rich men possess, 
 I am guilty of sin, and the same must confess ; 
 And just so if I sigh for rich wearing apparel, 
 For myself or the kids or my legal old girl. 
 So the Bible decrees, and my pastor declares, 
 And such sin must be wiped out by sky-reaching 
 
 prayers. 
 
 I'm a doubter — chock full to the muzzle at that — 
 I want ocular proof to know "where I am at," 
 What we call a "free thinker" in this age and 
 
 place, 
 And my good pastor says not a glimpse of your 
 
 face 
 Will I ever behold just because I am so. 
 Well, I doubt all such talk. Does his reverence 
 
 know 
 Any more than myself what is yon side the 
 
 grave ? 
 Or am I to be here and hereafter a slave ? 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 271 
 
 Don't you think I fulfill all your precepts divine 
 When I soberly work every day, rain or shine? 
 When I don't steal another man's goods or his 
 
 wife? 
 And reside 'mid my neighbors in peace all my 
 
 hfe? 
 When old Jennie Mendoza parades a new hat, 
 Do I sin to wish Kitty one equal to that? 
 If a coach and sleek horses pass by, do I err 
 When I wish to possess such a turn-out for her? 
 
 Now, dear Lord! you're aware of each pulse- 
 throb I beat, 
 
 And you know me all round from my head to my 
 feet. 
 
 I am just as you made me, no better, no worse. 
 
 I have only one wife, ne'er gave cause for di- 
 vorce. 
 
 And a chap who can prove, in this age of the 
 world, 
 
 That he ne'er in divorce court was ruthlessly 
 hurled. 
 
 He may not be a saint, but he's well under way, 
 
 For, vou know, such a boast is a credit today. 
 
 When my poor erring soul up for judgment must 
 
 stand. 
 Oh, I feel you'll extend it a welcoming hand. 
 And you'll tell it : "Well done ! There awaits 
 
 you a crown. 
 To reward you for braving adversity's frown. 
 
272 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 On my footstool below you have always been 
 
 good, 
 Although inside a church very rarely you stood, 
 Yet I love chaps that doubt and are broad in 
 
 their creed. 
 Evermore in my banquet hall here you may 
 
 feed." 
 
 THE FAMILY MAN. 
 He's noted for his downcast look, 
 
 And most dejected mien 
 His face is like an open book 
 
 Where all his woes are seen ; 
 He stalks just like a spavined horse 
 
 Upon his shuffling pins. 
 And every movement seems a curse 
 
 On yearly babes or twins. 
 
 A distant glance is in his eyes 
 
 On days now far away, 
 When 'neath the glorious morning skies 
 
 The happy hours he'd play, 
 And not a pang within his breast 
 
 He ever felt of woe. 
 Before he left the parent nest, 
 
 Of darling long ago. 
 
 The riiating time it came to him 
 
 Like many millions more ; 
 He took the noose with eyesight dim, 
 
 As thousands have before. 
 
SHANUY MAGUIRE's POEMS 273 
 
 The star dust off the hoiiey-nioon 
 
 Had hardly ceased to fall, 
 Before his lips, in doleful tune, 
 
 For single days did bawl. 
 
 A dozen years, a dozen brats. 
 
 With one or two thrown in ! 
 That haunt his life like squalling cats. 
 
 So ceaseless is their din. 
 His pate is bald from thinking long 
 
 On how to find them bread. 
 And clothe the young, uproarious throng, 
 ''God sent him" since he wed. 
 
 The cab has never got a rest. 
 
 The cradle is the same ! 
 His lips have never winged a jest 
 
 Since first a baby came. 
 Their "chubby cheeks," their "dimpled 
 hands," 
 
 Their "eyes of flashing glee," 
 All bind him down like cable strands 
 
 To toil and misery. 
 
 His "darling girl," his "angel love," 
 
 His "life light," where is she? 
 Ah, yes, there sits his "turtle dove," 
 
 With one upon each knee ! 
 Her rosy cheeks are faded now. 
 
 Her bangs are rumpled, too. 
 And baby's claws upon her brow 
 
 In scratches all may view. 
 
274 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 She isn't quite so ''slick" as when 
 
 He wooed her in the glade, 
 And thought himself the best of men, 
 
 To win so fine a maid ; 
 Her stately form and queenly grace 
 
 Are kind of squelched away, 
 And smiles come never to her face, 
 
 Alas ! she's also gray. 
 
 I don't upon my fancy draw 
 
 To paint this painful page ; 
 And if it wasn't for the law, 
 
 I'd often in a rage 
 Choke squalling kids, and make them cease 
 
 Their never ending cries. 
 Until I'd get a moment's peace 
 
 And close my weary eyes. 
 
 Old nature should renew her style, 
 
 And not send babes so young; 
 A twelve-months-old, a silvery smile, 
 
 Besides, a silent tongue 
 They all should have when coming here, 
 
 Then few and far between. 
 And down the stream of life we'd steer 
 
 On waters more serene. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 275 
 
 Read on the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Estab- 
 lishment of the City Schools of Oswego, 
 N. Y., June 25, 1903. 
 
 Today from hearts that grandly beat 
 
 With thankfulness to Him who rules 
 And thrilled with honest pride, we meet, 
 
 To glorify our city's schools ; 
 To tell the tales of fifty years, 
 
 Which passed along with noiseless tread, 
 All freighted with their hopes and fears. 
 
 For those who have the vanguard led 
 Of widening the range of thought, 
 
 Of delving into hidden mines 
 For new ideas, keenly sought, 
 
 Selecting only what refines, 
 In search of knowledge everywhere. 
 
 Dethroning error, crowning truth, 
 And nurturing, with greatest care, 
 
 The plastic minds of callow youth, 
 Our city won an honest fame. 
 
 Until 'tis known beyond the seas. 
 And every educator's name 
 
 Is prized for such results as these, 
 And those who first the system taught. 
 
 Ere gathered in to Nature's/ breast, 
 Bequeathed their task to you, and sought 
 
 The toiler's crown, a peaceful rest. 
 
 The school, it is a mighty force 
 To mold a nation's peaceful life ; 
 
276 . SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 It charts a true, straightforward course, 
 
 It buoys the rocks and shoals of strife, 
 In Legislative halls it rules, 
 
 The pulpit, press, the forum, too, 
 Thrill with the products of such schools, 
 
 As here are daily taught by you ; 
 'Tis learning cleaves with giant might 
 
 Foul bigotry, a nation's bane. 
 It, like the sun, illumines bright 
 
 The darkness of oppression's reign; 
 Dread superstition it dispels. 
 
 It broadens creeds, until they grow 
 Bereft of all eternal hells 
 
 To torture souls in depths below. 
 Sectarianism feels the weight 
 
 Of liberal enlightenment ; 
 The little schoolhouse seals its fate, 
 
 And leaves it with its venom spent. 
 The aristocracy of birth, 
 
 Of ignorance, of wealth, and all 
 Their kind, it dashes to the earth. 
 
 And then, it glorifies their fall. 
 
 Oh, men and women, you who know 
 
 The progress which our schools have made, 
 You nursed them, and have seen them grow 
 
 In influence through every grade ; 
 Responsibilities are yours. 
 
 Too great to mention in detail, 
 But long experience assures 
 
 That never shall your mission fail. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 277 
 
 It is your task to elevate 
 
 The opening minds and thoughts of youth, 
 To nurture and to cultivate 
 
 The love of honor and of truth ; 
 To ponder that before your eyes 
 
 The future sires and mothers stand, 
 And with them lives or basely dies 
 
 An offspring's love of native land; 
 'Tis yours the privilege to raise 
 
 Their aspirations to the height 
 Of pride in honorable ways, 
 
 And love of doing what is right. 
 To tell them that good character 
 
 Is worth the ransom of a king, 
 And should be prized by him or her. 
 
 Far dearer than what wealth can bring. 
 Today, with vision unobscured, 
 
 We scan the future, and we feel 
 Our present standing is assured, 
 
 With no abatement of your zeal. 
 We base our judgment on the past, 
 
 And by the good results you Ve wrought ; 
 We know you'll toil until the last. 
 
 To widen the domain of thought. 
 To plant the seed in every breast 
 
 Of future women, and of men, 
 Until they'll hear themselves addressed: 
 
 ''Good neighbor," and "good citizen," 
 And when another fifty years 
 
 Have come around for grand review, 
 'Mid eloquence, perhaps, and tears, 
 
 Men shall with pride remember you. 
 
278 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 Then in some local hall of fame, 
 
 With garlands culled in learning's bowers, 
 They'll twine them round each honored name. 
 
 Fit tributes to such schools as ours ! 
 
 THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY. 
 
 There's a dawn of a new creation 
 
 Due east in the toiler's sky ; 
 It is faint as a gossamer tracing, 
 
 Yet, seen by the practical eye, 
 That has patiently waited its coming, 
 
 And prayed for its birth for years, 
 To illume the sad lines of the masses, 
 
 Long scourged in a vale of tears ; 
 It will blaze up athwart the heavens 
 
 In a glory of light ere long; 
 It will master the types in motion. 
 
 To thunder the doom of wrong ; 
 'Tis the light of the press untrammeled, 
 
 We hail from united throats. 
 That is teaching the toiling masses 
 
 Not in bullets is strength, but votes. 
 
 We have craved, and sued, petitioned, 
 
 Implored on our bended knees. 
 For redress from the wrongs of ages. 
 
 But in vain were our litanies. 
 On we plodded the road, unthinking, 
 
 And, lashed by the power of might. 
 Till, from out of our desperation. 
 
 Sprang the magical word ''Unite !" 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 279 
 
 We have made it the toiler's slogan, 
 
 It thrills as it skyward rolls, 
 Inspiring us with the courage 
 
 And the hope of enfranchised souls, 
 No longer we crawl contented, 
 
 When trailing a slavish chain, 
 For soon, by the power of union. 
 
 We will sever its links in twain. 
 
 Oh! Brothers, for justice bravely 
 
 Up shoulder to shoulder stand, 
 And demand from our legislators 
 
 Just laws in fair freedom's land. 
 Insist that in arbitration 
 
 Decisions of questions grave 
 Must be rendered and voted final 
 
 By the master and by the slave. 
 Keep in touch with our educators. 
 
 Who are teaching with type and tongue, 
 To enlighten the struggling masses 
 
 That in union we'll conquer wrong ; 
 And the sun of the day now dawning 
 
 Will soon in its splendor shine, 
 If we rise over abject fawning 
 
 And unite all along the line. 
 
280 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 MOLLIE'S MISTAKE. 
 
 Oh, I once possessed a girl, in the happy long 
 ago, 
 Whom I loved to adoration ; and indeed, I 
 wasn't shy 
 To drop down upon my marrow bones and often 
 tell her so, 
 While the humidness of longing was like frost- 
 fog in each eye ; 
 She was but a simple maiden, nothing more nor 
 nothing less, 
 And perhaps a little foolish, as the sequel may 
 disclose ; 
 She was often rather tardy in returning my 
 caress, 
 And if too close I'd squeeze her, she'd show 
 red flags on her nose. 
 
 How the years have traveled onward since those 
 days of which I sing, 
 When the bloom of youthful manhood made 
 elastic every stride ; 
 Then I wouldn't change may habits for the 
 throne of any king. 
 For my heart was bubbling over for the angel 
 at my side. 
 I was with her late and early, and I'd always 
 sound her praise, 
 Till she really thought to angels she was truth- 
 fully the peer; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 281 
 
 But right soon I got the mitten in those bygone, 
 fooHsh days, 
 'Twas a sad mistake for MolHe, for I loved 
 the girl sincere. 
 
 Well, I wilted for a season, but the buoyancy of 
 youth 
 Didn't leave me long despondent, for I rallied 
 from the gloom, 
 And I quickly caught another, that my aching 
 heart did soothe ; 
 I was soon right hale and happy, and my 
 cheeks regained their bloom. 
 Where was Mollie? She lived lonely, away up- 
 ward in the sky, 
 Far too proud to mix with mortals, till in time 
 she did decay — 
 Till her lips had lost their crimson, and the luster 
 left each eye. 
 And the turkey-tracks and crow-feet drove 
 each loving chap away. 
 
 I was landed without trouble in the matrimonial 
 
 net 
 And we've pulled long years together, with 
 
 some growling now and then ; 
 For my bride was not an angel, nor myself a 
 
 lady's pet — 
 
282 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 She's a woman, and no lambkin is now push- 
 ing this old pen. 
 I would never sing this ditty, but last night I 
 went to church, 
 
 And I being there a stranger, was directed to 
 a pew, 
 Where a woman old and hoary crowded inward 
 with a lurch ; 
 
 Saints of Heaven ! It was Mollie sitting there 
 before my view. 
 
 Dearest girls — say, that sounds splendid — when 
 the roses on your cheeks 
 Are the very richest crimson, and the hopes of 
 youth are high. 
 Never slight an honest fellow, although awk- 
 wardly he speaks. 
 For he may turn out a husband worth the 
 loving by and by. 
 If old Mollie had but listened to my love tale, 
 long ago, 
 And not thought herself an angel, just because 
 I had it bad. 
 She'd escape a dreary pilgrimage of ancient 
 maiden woe. 
 And, besides, she could have boasted that she 
 caught a comely lad. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 283 
 
 SAM DELANEY'S REDEMPTION. 
 
 Shabby Sammy Delaney stepped up to the bar, 
 And from toeing that mark he had many a scar. 
 He was blear-eyed, and red-nosed, had wrinkles 
 
 so deep, 
 That a fly crawling round to cross o'er them 
 
 should leap. 
 There he stood, full of longing, no money had he. 
 And the bottles so tempting before him could 
 
 see; 
 He was nervous, unsteady, down-hearted and 
 
 weak, 
 But he managed these words there to shamefully 
 
 speak : 
 
 'T am sick and in need of a drink to restore 
 My poor head, for it aches as it ne'er did before ; 
 All my nerves are unstrung, and my heart is a 
 
 load, 
 Bearing down like a stone in its fleshy abode ; 
 And my stomach is empty, my sprees that are 
 
 past 
 Are as nothing compared to my greatest and last ; 
 Will you give me a drink to recover my brain? 
 And, with God's glorious help, ever more I'll 
 
 refrain." 
 
 Then the bartender said : "Yes, I'll give you a 
 
 drink, 
 But in mercy's name, Sam, of your family think. 
 
284 SHANDV maguire's poems 
 
 You've a wife whom you've sworn at the altar to 
 
 love, 
 And two children, akin to the angels above ; 
 If you longer pursue such a dissolute course. 
 Separation must follow by death or divorce. 
 Here's the bottle, but pause ere you touch it 
 
 again. 
 Though I sell it. I prize the redemption of men." 
 
 Sammy thought for some seconds, but touched 
 not the glass : 
 
 He reflected when Kate was a beautiful lass. 
 
 As they strolled side by side, 'neath the shade of 
 the trees. 
 
 When her ringlets were tossed by each spice- 
 laden breeze ; 
 
 Of the vine-trellised cot where they lived when 
 they wed, 
 
 And the hopes they enjoyed, now long faded 
 and dead ; 
 
 Of the eyes that were dim from the fall of her 
 tears, 
 
 And the miserable life he had led her for years. 
 
 Then his heart that was seared by intemperate 
 hours. 
 
 Soon began to o'erflow, till the tears fell in show- 
 ers. 
 
 For an instant or two he let nature have sway. 
 
 Then he straightened himself, and he brushed 
 them away, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIKE S POEMS 285 
 
 And he said : ''There are times in the hves of 
 
 us all 
 When a word can reclaim us or urge us to fall. 
 You have saved me, old friend, of my youth, and 
 
 I'll prove 
 I am worthy my wife and my children's love." 
 
 Out he went ; not a taste did he take, but began, 
 Once he passed through the door, to again be a 
 
 man. 
 He fought bravely the battle the craving to kill 
 Which he had for all liquors. At length his 
 
 strong will 
 Made him victor at last. Now he has his re- 
 ward — 
 Once again is his mansion with merriment stored, 
 The glad face of his wife and the pranks of his 
 
 boys, 
 As he shares in their sports, are the best of his 
 joys. 
 
 If we stretch forth a hand and a kind word in 
 
 time. 
 In the manner the bartender did in this rhyme, 
 We perhaps might reclaim many victims of 
 
 drink, 
 Ere too deep in the dregs of damnation they'd 
 
 sink. 
 Human nature is weak, there are none of us 
 
 strong ; 
 Though our aims may be right, we too often go 
 
 wrong. 
 
286 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Let us aid one another, much suffering 'twill 
 
 save. 
 And perhaps we'll have peace t'other side of the 
 
 grave. 
 
 HAIL TO THE CHIEF, WARREN S. STONE. 
 
 "Hail to the Chief ruling o'er us," 
 
 We liegemen devotedly sing; 
 No matter what fate is before us, 
 
 Our fealty to him we bring. 
 The course of our order is charted ; 
 
 Along it we've many years sailed. 
 Conned by the great captain, departed 
 
 To endless reward, when Death hailed. 
 
 Yes, *'Hail to the Chief" who is wearing 
 
 Our Brotherhood's mantle today ; 
 Who sails the same course so unerring, 
 
 O'er which we've had long right of way. 
 How proud he must feel to be given 
 
 The bridge of our gallant old ship, 
 Unsought, although many have striven 
 
 To gain it, if but for a trip ! 
 
 It is a fine craft he's commanding; 
 
 She's often been battered by foes ; 
 But always came safe to her landing. 
 
 In spite of the enemy's blows. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 287 
 
 The same flag is still o'er us floating, 
 
 'Neath which we have had some roast beef, 
 
 While thousands salute it, devoting 
 Their loyal heart's love to the Chief. 
 
 Our voyage by no means is ended, 
 
 It may be we've breakers ahead ; 
 But, boys, the dear flag, we'll defend it, 
 
 Until the last member lies dead ; 
 It typifies everything lawful, 
 
 And not one iota of brag, 
 Although every man has a crawful 
 
 To give if required by the flag. 
 
 "All hail to the Chief," now together 
 
 From ocean to ocean respond, 
 We wish him success and fair weather. 
 
 And smooth-water sailing beyond. 
 He holds a distinguished position, 
 
 'Tis one which is burdened with care. 
 But under each trying condition 
 
 The old ship he'll sail on the square. 
 
 A DECEITFUL DREAM. 
 
 'Tether night I went dreaming when prompted 
 by you 
 
 In your eloquent missive to me, 
 I obeyed your request, and what else could I do? 
 
 For your lines had inspired me, you see. 
 
288 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Soon I dreamt I shook off twenty years from 
 my life. 
 As I gazed in your clear liquid eyes, 
 Talking fondly of love, wishing you were my 
 wife, 
 And I conscious of winning the prize. 
 
 Oh ! I dreamt we w^ere back by the Barrow's 
 clear stream, 
 As it glides gently on to the sea ; 
 Where I saw the dear scenes of my youth in my 
 dream. 
 And you nestled up closely to me. 
 
 On your crimson-hued lips I implanted a kiss, 
 Standing close to the dearly-loved shore. 
 
 Where existence contained flowing measures of 
 bliss. 
 Which I quaffed with companions of yore. 
 
 Through the suburbs of Carlow, delighted we 
 strayed, 
 
 And your features w^ere beaming with joy, 
 As I pointed you out every boreen and glade 
 
 Where I sported a light-hearted boy ! 
 
 There the blackbird and linnet melodiously trill- 
 ed. 
 
 And the sky-lark enraptured our ears. 
 Till our hearts were with ravishing melody filled. 
 
 And our eyes were o'erflowing with tears ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 289 
 
 "This is heaven, indeed," I exiiltingly cried, 
 
 " 'Tis a land of supernal delight ! 
 Will you share it with me? j\Iay I call you 
 my bride? 
 
 Holy church shall espouse us tonight !" 
 
 In suspense I awaited to hear your reply, 
 But, O Lord ! I awoke with a scream, 
 
 I'or my elbow hit Kitty right square in the eye, 
 And she soon put an end to my dream. 
 
 Read Before the Humidity Club of Wheelmen at 
 the Close of the Season 1897. 
 
 Another grand season is over, 
 
 'Twas one most delightful of all. 
 For every off country ward rover. 
 
 Who went there spring, summer and fall ; 
 Dear Nature was waiting to greet us, 
 
 Th^ sheen of the plant and the shrub 
 She lavishly furnished to treat us, 
 
 WhoVe in the Humidity Club. 
 
 So boys to the brim fill your glasses, 
 Let mine be from Adam's best brew. 
 
 And drink to the lads and the lassies. 
 Who love rural beauties to view. 
 
290 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Kingdom come may have limitless glories 
 
 To give to the orthodox class, 
 Who listen to post-mortem stories, 
 
 Each Sunday at meeting or mass ; 
 But oh, mid the field and the flowers, 
 
 We list to the birds in the trees. 
 Joy throbs through these bosoms of ours. 
 
 Inhaling the spice-laden breeze! 
 
 Now fill, and, my lads, to our goddess, 
 In temperate drinks we'll unite, 
 
 Winter garments she wears o'er her bodice, 
 Concealing her beauties tonight. 
 
 My noble old friend. Father Barry, 
 
 He lectures me sharp when we meet, 
 But seldom he gets me to tarry, 
 
 To hear what he says on the street; 
 He worships the creed that he preaches. 
 
 And boys, we all know he's sincere; 
 But Nature's our priestess, she teaches 
 
 New glories each day in the year. 
 
 Again let the liquid flow over 
 
 From loving cups pressed to our lips. 
 And think of the sweets of the clover 
 ■ We tested on countryward trips! 
 
 If heaven had good roads to reach it. 
 
 We'd try to get there on a bike, 
 But those who're anointed to preach it 
 
 Describe it a hard riding pike; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 291 
 
 While downward run boulevards splendid 
 
 All leading to Satan's abode ; 
 Oh, why was it ever intended 
 
 To Heaven should be such a road? 
 
 Once more let our glasses go clinking, 
 Toss off to our innocent joys, 
 
 There's not the least danger in drinking 
 With sober companions — the boys ! 
 
 We're told that our wheels hurt the churches. 
 
 By keeping us riders away; 
 Does passing to pews through their porches 
 
 Make mankind more piously pray? 
 Too often we've listened to preachers, 
 
 Who never have done as they'd preach, 
 All fine and fanatical screechers, 
 
 Sut carried no weight in their screech. 
 
 So boys, pour the stuff for another. 
 Ye lads who have mastered the bike, 
 
 "To nature ! our impartial mother. 
 Who treats all her offspring alike." 
 
 Some men — and God bless them, I love them— 
 
 Yet follow the lowly and meek, 
 They lead to the heaven above them. 
 
 When life's sick and sad ones they seek. 
 In hunger and sorrow they aid them. 
 
 They beg from the rich for such poor, 
 They tell them 'twas one God that made them 
 
 When bearing good cheer to their door ! 
 
292 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Bend over your heads and I'll name you 
 Two good men, come, toast them for me, 
 
 If outcasts, as brothers they'll claim you, 
 "Father Barry and honest Ned Lee." 
 
 I really could stay here till morning 
 
 Comes stealing on tip toe along, 
 Ere giving the slightest of warning, 
 
 Before I would finish my song. 
 But soon will be time to be going 
 
 Yet, ere we depart, fill 'em up ; 
 We'll make all the roosters go crowing 
 
 With hearty hurrahs ere we stop. 
 
 "To good roads and those who obtain 'em! 
 
 To wide tires and cinder paths fine ;" 
 Don't pause till you thoroughly drain 'em 
 
 No danger lurks under our wine. 
 
 How oft when the white scuds were floating 
 
 Away through the azure a-lee, 
 We've fancied them yachts and we boating 
 
 Serene on an aerial sea ! 
 We have lain on the roadside together 
 
 In languorous mood as we'd gaze. 
 While around us the warm summer weather 
 
 We felt in those memorable days. 
 
 Come, drink to the spots where we gloated 
 O'er bumpers of fancy's champagne. 
 
 While viewing white squadrons that floated 
 Aloft by our castles in Spain! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 293 
 
 Clasp hands now and circle together, 
 
 Then down to the dregs drink this toast, 
 To Him who distributes the weather, 
 
 The "Sarge" there who sits at his post; 
 From March till the close of November 
 
 We ne'er missed a Sunday at all ; 
 Drink deep to Him, boys, and remember 
 
 To give Him three cheers when I call. 
 
 "Here's luck to you, 'Sarge,' and God bless 
 you 
 
 For giving us weather so fine, 
 May witching Miss Fortune caress you 
 
 With all of her graces divine." 
 
 Tonight, and the season is ended. 
 
 The trees of their leaves are all bare. 
 Big snowflakes have lately descended. 
 
 And cold winds prevail in the air. 
 Pour out ! 'tis the last time ere parting 
 
 ril ask you this toast and no more 
 For homeward we now must be starting 
 
 All listen, then out through the door: 
 
 "Our big hearted host there before us," 
 We always have found him a king ; 
 
 And this ends my song and the chorus. 
 Adieu to you, Dan, till next spring." . 
 
294 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 THE OLD YEAE AND THE NEW. 
 
 It is festival time, 
 
 And the weary old year, 
 In his garments of rime 
 
 Soon will lie on his bier ; 
 But above him we'll carelessly gather, 
 
 Without ever shedding a tear. 
 
 Vv'e have little to praise 
 
 In his life or his reign. 
 From his earliest days 
 
 We did loudly complain 
 Of the ills in abundance he brought us, 
 
 To keep us in doubt and in pain. 
 
 We had panic and grief. 
 
 We had strike and dismay. 
 Without any relief. 
 
 For full many a day, 
 Till our sky seemed a dense mass of shadows 
 
 Obscuring the sun's faintest ray. 
 
 Now old Christmas is here, 
 
 And all ills we forget, 
 In the midst of our cheer, 
 
 'Mongst the friends whom we've met. 
 They have lifted our hearts with their greeting 
 
 Which thrills through us hopefully yet. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 295 
 
 There are good times to come ! 
 
 Think how Christ at his birth 
 Had no shelter nor home, ' 
 
 But today all the earth 
 Is resounding its loudest Te Deums 
 
 To greet the Child King in its mirth. 
 
 If the present looks dark, 
 
 "In the sweet by and bye," 
 Yes, and soon, too, we'll mark 
 
 A most prosperous sky, 
 With the wheels of all traffic in motion. 
 
 To please every railroader's eye. 
 
 So, we'll gleefully sing. 
 
 It won't better our lot 
 To make misery king 
 
 Of a palace or cot ; 
 A big laugh never yet gave a sexton 
 
 A job planting bodies to rot. 
 
 Merry Christmas to all. 
 
 Full of health and good cheer. 
 And on heaven we call 
 
 For a happy New Year 
 For each one of the good pious readers 
 
 We pray from our bosoms sincere. 
 
296 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 "THE BOYS HAVE GONE TO GETTYSBUEG." 
 
 The boys have gone to Gettysburg, the boys of 
 sixty-three, 
 With hoary heads and grizzled beards, and 
 hearts that keep aglow. 
 Again they've gone to Gettysburg, historic sights 
 to see, 
 Made glorious and immortal just forty years 
 ago. 
 When life was in its rampant prime, and when 
 the country called 
 For volunteers to save the flag, they nobly 
 marched away. 
 Then death they faced in every shape with 
 bosoms unappalled. 
 And that is why these young old men are hon- 
 ored here today. 
 
 The boys have gone to Gettysburg, the few who 
 yet survive, 
 The halt and lame, with crutch and cane, and 
 empty pants and sleeve ; 
 They've gone to view those olden sights, those 
 heroes yet alive, 
 And thankful to the Power above who gave 
 them such reprieve ; 
 They've hobbled off the sights to mark where 
 hell's artillery played, 
 Where blood in crimson rivers ran from 
 slaughtered friend and foe, 
 
shandy maguire's poems 297 
 
 Where breast to breast in deadly strife, with 
 bosoms undismayed, 
 They won the field and cheered the flag just 
 forty years ago. 
 
 They'll soon return from Gettysburg ; they'll tell 
 of Round Top's sights, 
 Where Nature hides the bloody clay with ver- 
 dure from her breast; 
 Gulp's Hill no longer shows the scars of great 
 heroic fights, 
 But stands in silent grandeur still above the 
 braves at rest. 
 And soon Oswego's little band, that yet of life 
 can boast, 
 Will join the ghostly army for review with 
 friend and foe : 
 They'll be assigned the honored piace amid the 
 deathless host, 
 Front rank, right flank, like where they fought 
 just forty years ago. 
 
 Congratulations to Father Barry, Oswego, N. Y., 
 on His Recovery from Rheumatism. 
 
 My dear father, I'm proud as a fellow can be, 
 That again from the rheumatic devils you're free. 
 Holy Moses ! old friends, how they clutch a 
 
 chap's bones, 
 Till he writhes, and he roars, and he — prays, and 
 
 he groans, 
 
298 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 While the tears from his eyes in a cataract 
 
 stream, 
 And each breath he exhales is a heart-rending 
 
 scream ; 
 I have howled till the air had a sulphurous hue, 
 Oh, but why should God punish an angel like 
 
 you? 
 
 In your eloquent way I have oft heard you tell 
 Of the tortures awaiting old sinners in hell, 
 And the pictures you painted .with voluble 
 
 tongue. 
 Sent a horrible thrill all your hearers among. 
 T'other night, as I kicked like a mule in the bed. 
 Every joint fit to crack, from my toes to my 
 
 head, 
 I oft thought of that place below China, and 
 
 swore 
 There was no pain like mine t'other side of 
 
 death's door. 
 
 Dear old Soggarth Aroon, it is pretty severe 
 To be scourged by the ills of humanity here. 
 While we're fighting life's battles, in search of 
 
 a crust, 
 To sustain us till taken to molder in dust ; 
 Then, the moment our souls from our bodies 
 
 let go. 
 To the devil be kicked into unending woe, 
 It is tough to believe it, I'm danged if I do. 
 And, poor slave of rheumatics, now, really, do 
 
 you? 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 299 
 
 Well you know I neglect Mother Church, and 
 
 my love 
 Tells nie hourly I'll ne'er see God's features 
 
 above ; 
 I admit I'm like Thomas, o'erloaded with doubt — 
 Here is one thing, dear father, I'd like to find 
 
 out: 
 Why are you scourged the same as a sinner like 
 
 me, 
 Who's as saintly as any man mortal can be? 
 Well, in fact, you were worse, in my paper I 
 
 read 
 That you suffered so bad you were crippled in 
 
 bed. 
 
 Do not mind a reply. You're again on the street. 
 
 And, God knows, there's no man 'tis as pleasing 
 to meet 
 
 As your dear saintly self. When I feel your 
 kind hand. 
 
 All the strings of my heart with affection ex- 
 pand ; 
 
 When I look in your face and I witness your 
 smile, 
 
 I can tell that your heart has no corner for guile. 
 
 And your words have a solace to soothe one to 
 rest, 
 
 Like a fond mother's coo o'er the babe on her 
 breast. 
 
300 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 In the black penal days 'twas such Soggarths 
 
 as yon 
 Kept the land of my birth to the ancient faith 
 
 true, 
 When the churches were closed, to the ditches 
 
 they fled, 
 There to celebrate mass for the living and dead ; 
 'Neath their own Irish skies, on the emerald 
 
 sod. 
 Many gave up their lives in the service of God, 
 For the sake of their flocks, often shot in their 
 
 tracks. 
 Elevating the Host, with a ball in their backs. 
 
 Oh, if I had your chance, to the Hot Springs 
 
 I'd go, 
 And sojourn a\vhile in the sun's genial glow ; 
 You have worked for your parish year in and 
 
 year out, 
 And have never been known to go gadding 
 
 about ; 
 Your good people should now make you pack 
 
 up your grip. 
 And be off for six months on a European trip ; 
 When they think of your labors, they'll fatten 
 
 your purse. 
 And please, father, take me, I'm an excellent 
 
 nurse. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 301 
 
 You will pardon, dear Soggarth, this freak of 
 
 my lyre, 
 But you ached like myself, every joint was afire, 
 And a feeling of kinship impels me to write 
 That vour seeming recovery gives me delight, 
 But I fear you are only enjoying a rest. 
 And your bones evermore have an unbidden 
 
 guest, 
 'Tis experience talks, but God grant 1 am wrong. 
 Is the prayer for your weal that I utter in song. 
 
 A DECEMBER WAIL. 
 
 Another year when the leaves are sear 
 
 And the clouds in the skies are gray. 
 Has revolved about, for the signs are out 
 
 Of a bleak December day ; 
 And we'll very soon sing the heartsick tune 
 
 Of the frost and the drifting snow. 
 When our bones will ache and our bodies shake 
 
 In the biting winds that blow. 
 
 We have pleasures few when the skies are blue 
 
 And the hot sun belches red ; 
 If we'd keep alive, we must drudge and drive 
 
 For our daily crust of bread ; 
 While some others boast of their quail on toast, 
 
 And rich broadcloth on their backs ; 
 But, alas ! our share is the coarsest fare, 
 
 While we toil on the railway tracks. 
 
302 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 We are told there's rest for the sore oppressed 
 
 When we're buried 'neath the clay, 
 And for evermore on God's balmy shore 
 
 We'll enjoy an endless day; 
 Yet, I'd like a slice of those things so nice 
 
 Which the lucky ones get here, 
 x\nd, besides, the bliss far away from this, 
 
 On some more distant sphere. 
 
 But, O Lord, content, when its earthward sent, 
 
 If you'd give us here our share. 
 We can then defy the bleak wintry sky 
 
 And the chill December air ; 
 It is happiness which alone can bless 
 
 Every poor man more than wealth. 
 Give us plenty. Lord, and our lives reward 
 
 With a robust round of health. 
 
 HAM SANDWICHES FOR TEA. 
 
 They are fine! My love made them. I ate them 
 until 
 
 I was gorged as a glutton could be ; 
 Then to bed, and, dear Lord, don't I think of 
 them still? 
 
 For they raised the old Harry with me. 
 I'd a terrible time. On my breast lay a load, 
 
 Where it rested the whole of the night. 
 As away on a nightmare I furiousl}' rode. 
 
 Until tossed on the floor at daylight. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 303 
 
 Subterranean depths 1 explored — in my mind — 
 
 And I got to earth's end in a jifif, 
 Where a smoke-dried What is it? to joking ni- 
 dined, 
 
 Said he'd make me the mate of his skiff; 
 I signed articles soon, and I stood at my post, 
 
 On the bow of that weird-looking craft. 
 Taking lost ones across the famed Styx for a 
 roast. 
 
 Loaded deep every trip, fore and aft. 
 
 At each tick of my watch came unfortunates 
 down ! 
 And — God help me ! My heart nearly broke. 
 When I recognized chaps from my own darling 
 town 
 Taking headers right into the smoke. 
 Every dive our old scow would go under the 
 seas, 
 Just to give the newcomers a dip ; 
 As for me, well, I took to my job by degrees; 
 I was gallant first mate of the ship. 
 
 Not a woman 1 saw, every cargo was men ; 
 
 And old bald-headed rascals came thick, 
 Who would pray at revivals on earth now and 
 then, 
 
 I would sto') their amens with a kick ; 
 
304 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Teii-per-cent boys, who watched every chance to 
 cut down 
 Us poor devils who toiled on the rail ; 
 Oh, I tell you, their hides soon became nice and 
 brown, 
 'Mid the flame that belched round in a gale. 
 
 Many clergymen, too, who in pulpits above 
 
 Thundered eloquence out by the mile. 
 Very limber-tongued chaps, who the dollars 
 did love. 
 And who salted them down with a smile ; 
 They would preach on how poor and how lowly 
 was God, 
 And how sinful to add to our store ; 
 While themselves from poor devils who carried 
 a hod 
 Took the dimes and then hollered for more. 
 
 My physician came down in a terrible plight, 
 
 And I caught the old fraud by the throat, 
 And I said : "Doc, you'll take my prescription 
 tonight, 
 Ere you're kicked on yon shore from this 
 boat ; 
 How you dosed me above with your poisonous 
 stufif 
 Till my cables of life you let slip. 
 Then dispatched me down here to look after my 
 lufif. 
 From a very slight touch of the grippe !" 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 305 
 
 Many judges, who talked about justice and such, 
 
 And knocked Liberty down from her throne, 
 Squirmed hard when we got them right into our 
 clutch, 
 
 With full many a heart- sob and groan ; 
 Many lawyers who tried to make white appear 
 black. 
 
 For the cash which they got for the same ; 
 Had a fair wind across, we ne'er boarded a tack. 
 
 Till we tossed them right into the flame. 
 
 We had editors plenty, whose papers took sides 
 
 Against poor men, and lauded the rich ; 
 And to hurry them over we worked double tides , 
 
 To where flesh and blood burned like pitch. 
 We had bank wreckers, demagogues, upstarts in 
 life, 
 
 And some would-be aristocrats, too ; 
 Such we tossed into deeps where affliction was 
 rife, 
 
 And the flames had a sulphurous hue. 
 
 We had wretches whose hearts were as black 
 as the paint 
 
 On the door-knobs of nethermost hell, 
 Who would poison the acts of an angel or saint 
 
 With the falsehoods they'd fluently tell. 
 They were bound for the depths where the coals 
 are aglow, 
 
 With a heat as intense as the sun, 
 And I laughed as I saw them dive into the woe 
 
 When the race of their slander was run ! 
 
306 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 We had keepers of houses, who always ensnared 
 
 Poor unfortunates into their dives, 
 To entice from them dimes that could never be 
 spared 
 
 From their suffering children and wives. 
 O'er that river of flame they were rushed with 
 the speed 
 
 Of the wind and the tide in their tails. 
 To receive the reward of their damnable greed, 
 
 Where the blaze of remorse never fails ! 
 
 We had red-nosed old topers, who stood at the 
 bars 
 Drinking hard-earned money away ; 
 Making hells of their homes with their family 
 jars, 
 For the want of their miserable pay. 
 They all seemed reconciled to the doom which 
 they got. 
 And my stories of roasting they'd scoff; 
 They declared their existence on earth was so 
 hot. 
 That they hankered for this to cool off. 
 
 A full cargo of bigots one trip I took in, 
 
 And I ordered all sail to be set. 
 Till I'd rush them across to the father of sin, 
 
 Who was waiting to give them a sweat. 
 In my haste to get over, the pier-head I hit. 
 
 For the smoke at the landing was thick, 
 And the jar made me jump from the bed in a fit, 
 
 Wide awake, feeling terribly sick ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 307 
 
 WHEN THE PAY CAE COMES. 
 
 One day in every month we hail 
 With varied feeHngs on the rail, 
 Where toil and trouble always reign 
 From end to end of every train. 
 This day with joy for some is fraught, 
 With others it amounts to naught, 
 For all depends upon the sums 
 We'll get, when in the pay car comes. 
 
 With business brisk and splendid health, 
 Some men may contemplate their wealth, 
 But when it's dull, a chain-gang crew 
 Must feel in every movement blue ; 
 The "steady runs" are sure to win. 
 Although they don't at all times grin ; 
 Their loaves may dwindle into crumbs 
 Before the longed-for pay car comes. 
 
 Some bonnets, gowns, and sacques, and such 
 May make a fellow's fists unclutch ; 
 Young Jennie, in her teens, may want 
 The latest modes to gayly flaunt ; 
 And Jack may beg for wardrobe fine. 
 And mother, for the last design 
 In silks, to '^stifflicate" her chums. 
 The moment that the pay car comes. 
 
 His nibs himself may have a mash, 
 Who'll surely get her share of cash ; 
 
308 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 His board will have to stand the blame — 
 It sometimes works when bluff's the game- 
 Or may be "chalk it," tells a tale 
 Of whisky, brandy, wine and ale, 
 Hobnobbing with his brother bums, 
 To settle when the pay car comes. 
 
 The Lord above, He only knows 
 Just how and where the money goes ; 
 Today we may be kings and queens, 
 Tomorrow starved on musty beans, 
 Our pockets empty, credit bad, 
 A nickel hardly to be had ; 
 For comfort we may suck our thumbs 
 Until again the pay car comes. 
 
 THE MILLENNIUM. 
 
 When shall it come ? Are there prophets who 
 
 tell 
 When on this earth we in comfort can dwell? 
 When shall the wolf, on his pugnacious ham. 
 Sit for a chat with the poor little lamb? 
 When shall all Christians together agree, 
 Those on the mountain and those on the sea; 
 Praising the Lord as a good Christian ought. 
 Giving his neighbor the freedom of thought? 
 
 When shall a preacher his Bible lay down. 
 And toil by the Cross till he reaches the Crown ; 
 Sharing with those in the hovels his bread. 
 Soothing the sick and interring the dead? 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE^S POEMS 309 
 
 When shall a lawyer — oh answer, forsooth — 
 When shall a limb of the law tell the truth? 
 When shall a doctor, prescribing us pills, 
 Take them himself, to allay his own ills? 
 
 When shall an up-to-date girl express 
 Her love for a poor lad, and share his caress; 
 Make him a wife ever faithful and true, 
 And not do as some that I wot of now do? 
 When shall a chap spend his evenings at home, 
 And not through dark by-ways persistently roam, 
 While a sad wife with poor innocents mourn, 
 Watching and waiting the rascal's return? 
 
 When shall a man with his millions decree 
 'Tis time to whack up with a fellow like me? 
 When shall a hypocrite throttle his cant? 
 When shall a demagogue cease with his rant? 
 When shall the pews in a church be for all ? 
 And His Reverence slight a big-salaried call? 
 
 When shall I miltter a fistful of prayers, 
 And climb to my bed, up a steep flight of stairs, 
 There to remain, without nightmare or dream, 
 Till the rays of the morning right on to me 
 
 beam? 
 See ! it is midnight ! The hands of the clock 
 Denote that the ghosts soon around me will flock. 
 No answer. Til get to my questions. Good 
 
 night. 
 The Millennium, though, may be here by day- 
 light. 
 
310 SHANDV MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 I've read and I've heard of big frauds so delight- 
 ful, 
 But this is the dandy of all; 
 Tis a bugbear, to scare us with feelings most 
 frightful, 
 And if we can't win it, we fall ; 
 We are told to adore it to lighten our labors, 
 
 This king of a mystic domain ; 
 Faith, I don't count it much of a helpmate, 1)c- 
 jabers, 
 For reasons I'll briefly explain. 
 
 I've known gallant fellows in thousands together 
 
 Drop tools at the word of command ; 
 And I've read in "great dailies" whole columns 
 of blether. 
 Advising them bravely to stand 
 As a unit, until all their wrongs would be right- 
 ed. 
 For justice they had on their side ; 
 But the scabs got the jobs they vacated, de- 
 lighted. 
 And public good-will proved a snide. 
 
 I have also enthused when high jinks of the 
 nation 
 In eloquent language would say : 
 *Tf you've public opinion, though humble in sta- 
 tion, 
 You'll conquer in every fray." 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 311 
 
 But experience has taught us such eloquent 
 vapor 
 
 Is nothing at all but a breeze 
 Far too weak to extinguish a half -penny taper, 
 
 A sickly great-grandmother's sneeze. 
 
 If public opinion is worthy of notice, 
 
 Why hasn't it helped us when right. 
 When our enemy's fingers were clutched in our 
 glottis, 
 
 In many a one-sided fight ? 
 Like martyrs we've oftentimes stood undefended, 
 
 Good targets for tyrannous jabs. 
 In a comatose state, till the shindy was ended, 
 
 And places were filled by the scabs. 
 
 The other side don't care for public opinion. 
 
 They go for us hammer and tongs. 
 When they wish to increase either wealth or 
 dominion. 
 And little they care for our wrongs ; 
 But we victims must always bend under oppres- 
 sion. 
 And public opinion must win; 
 We must never in thought dare commit a trans- 
 gression, 
 On our side it's pardonless sin. 
 
 Well, public opinion, here's to you, my darling. 
 You're powerful to aid us, aroon ! 
 
312 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 With you on our side, when for justice we're 
 quarreHng-, 
 We're soHd as — fog-banks in June. 
 We'll build you a temple and worship you daily, 
 
 God bless you noon, morning and night ! 
 We'll woo you, and win you, and fondle you 
 gaily, 
 You're just what we need in a fight. 
 
 ''WHAT MUST WE DO TO BE SAVED ?" 
 
 Bob Ingersoll, Bob Ingersoll, I heard you here 
 
 one night, 
 As off you rattled fiery talk enough a man to 
 
 fright ; 
 You preached on how we must be saved — 'twas 
 
 doctrine strange to all — 
 And many thought you Satan, Bob, that listened 
 
 in the hall. . i 
 
 Bob Ingersoll, Bob Ingersoll, our dear old 
 
 mothers said. 
 If good we'd find a place with God the moment 
 
 we'd be dead. 
 And now, when tossed on life's rough sea and 
 
 sighing for a calm, 
 You tell us all were foolish tales, and mother's 
 
 tongue a sham. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 313 
 
 It grated harshly on our minds, in days of callow 
 youth, 
 
 We felt the words they told us. Bob, were trum- 
 pet blasts of truth ; 
 
 We dreamt of angels and their wings, and hourly 
 we would sigh 
 
 To leave this world in spring of life for mansions 
 in the sky. 
 
 Oh, eloquent Bob Ingersoll ! I wonder how you 
 dare 
 
 Express such thoughts before mankind? I don't 
 know how you'll fare 
 
 When God shall call your sinful soul for judg- 
 ment. Bob ; I fear, 
 
 You'll hear the dreadful charge to slide off down- 
 ward on your ear. 
 
 I know, my bold defaming chap, your doctrine's 
 
 sure to please 
 Some wealthy fellows, like yourself who lie on 
 
 beds of ease ; 
 But we who struggle hard for bread beneath 
 
 each tyrant's frowm. 
 Prefer our dear old mothers' tales, that pledged 
 
 an endless crown. 
 
 There's no one, Bob, who can deny but that your 
 brain is bright ; 
 
 You've only got one grievous fault, your doc- 
 trine isn't right. 
 
314 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 I wish you'd take a tumble soon, and come our 
 
 pious way, 
 Your tongue is just a dandy one to eloquently 
 
 pray. 
 
 If not, my flowery infidel, I fear you yet shall 
 roast, 
 
 'Way down upon a whirling spit, until you're 
 brown as toast ; 
 
 Because you thunder forth such lies your audi- 
 ences among. 
 
 Ah, Bob, whatever else you've got, you have a 
 lying tongue. 
 
 I wish you'd join our choir above, where I my 
 
 voice shall raise 
 To topmost pitch, on Jordan's banks, in songs 
 
 of endless praise. 
 Indeed I wouldn't like to hear the devil rattling 
 
 chains, 
 To bind you tight for evermore in never-ending 
 
 pains. 
 
 SLEEP. 
 
 I dearly love to drop my nose 
 
 On downy pillows for repose; 
 
 'Tis one of nature's grandest treats, 
 
 To dive between two well-aired sheets, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 315 
 
 And let the world go whirling by, 
 As there obliviously you lie 
 To toil and care, coiled in a heap. 
 With eyelids closed in balmy sleep. 
 
 In sleep a chap forgets his ills, 
 
 And every pang of care that kills, 
 
 I've often in the land of dreams 
 
 Been floating over placid streams 
 
 And thought I was a royal king, 
 
 With wealth to do most anything. 
 
 Piled up in many a shining heap, 
 
 But — God be praised — 'twas in my sleep. 
 
 Some early rising poets say 
 To jump from bed ere break of day. 
 And witness all the changing dyes 
 The sun throws up the eastern skies ; 
 I'd much prefer to take my ease. 
 With head bent over toward my knees, 
 While others such delights could view, 
 And, reader, darling, so would you. 
 
 There's great enjoyment 'neath the clothes ; 
 We get a respite from our woes ; 
 And dream, perhaps, we're railroad lords. 
 With slaves surrounding us in hordes. 
 The way some cringing knaves are seen. 
 That sneak around with fawning mien ; 
 Ah ! that's the time I love to snore, 
 And kick the sneaks outside the door! 
 
316 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Well, here's to sleep, that bHssful kind. 
 Which in our beds at home we find; 
 An eight hour stretch, yes nine or ten, 
 A yawn, and then drop off again ; 
 Without a dread of caller's boots, 
 To kick the door — the blamed galoots ! 
 Until we think we've had galore, 
 Without a wish for any more. 
 
 TORONTO, 1898. 
 
 I've a story to tell, 'twill be truthful and brief 
 
 And I do not intend it to harrow up grief ; 
 
 So come here, my old pen, from the cobwebs and 
 
 rust, 
 And have at it again, inoffensive I trust. 
 For my breast is aglow with memorial things, 
 And my head is as light as if mounted on wings, 
 As I tramp back again in a mental review, 
 To the time I enjoyed with the athletic crew 
 
 Who were cocks of the walk at Toronto. 
 
 'Twas a crowd that would make an old warrior 
 
 grieve, 
 Who from nature had got a forever reprieve 
 From the roystering tricks of his happiest days. 
 When his pulses with manhood and health were 
 
 ablaze ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 317 
 
 When he'd laugh in the teeth of the ills of the 
 
 rail, ' 
 And he never could tell one the meaning of fail ; 
 When his eyes, like the eagle's, were gloriously 
 
 bright. 
 And could see round a corner in mid of the night. 
 Everyone could do this at Toronto. 
 
 There they came from the East, with their hopes 
 at high tide, 
 
 And they came from the West, full of brotherly 
 pride ; 
 
 From the North and the South, from the contin- 
 ent o'er, 
 
 Came the boys to the shrine where they worship- 
 ped before. 
 
 What a meeting was there ! How the hand- 
 clasps of steel 
 
 Indicated true hearts full of brotherly weal ; 
 
 And each face all aglow with the friendliest joy 
 
 Told much plainer than words every incoming 
 boy 
 
 Was delighted to get to Toronto! 
 
 Came the girls with the boys to enliven the scene. 
 And each one whom we met looked as grand as 
 
 a queen ; 
 How we gloried to have them 'longside us, to 
 
 guide 
 With their counsels, our ship on prosperity's 
 
 tide! 
 
318 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Marriage was not a failure to those who were 
 
 there ; 
 Not a wrinkle was seen or a crow-foot of care 
 On the features of any, a matron or maid ; 
 Not a turkey-track yet on a forehead was laid 
 Of the girls whom we saw at Toronto. 
 
 Now he silent, old pen, do not ever betray 
 
 What was done in a fair, parliamentary way ; 
 
 Not a law but was wholesome and certain to aid 
 
 Each brawny and brainy chap climbing life's 
 grade ; 
 
 Yes, and those who're descending to valleys be- 
 low, 
 
 Where all enginemen sooner or later must go. 
 
 The old banner yet floats, and Frank Sargent's 
 on deck ; 
 
 He's in charge of tne ship, she will ne'er be a 
 wreck ; 
 
 And we all so declared at Toronto. 
 
 A PENITENT'S APPEAL. 
 
 Dear Father of infinite glory. 
 
 Prostrated on bare knees I pray 
 Thou'lt list to a penitent's story, 
 
 And grant my petition today ; 
 Too long after methods of Moses 
 
 Fve scuffled with pencil and song, 
 To have Thee grind off the d d noses 
 
 Of all those w^ho did us a wrong. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 319 
 
 Those Gowans, the Ashleys, and others, 
 
 The Dunhams, the Mortons and Stones, 
 United, whole armies of Brothers 
 
 Now march o'er their mouldering bones. 
 We saw them knocked out of positions, 
 
 Like dogs with the scurvy or mange, 
 While ivc live in better conditions. 
 
 And glorify Thee for the change. 
 
 All fearful oppressors of labor, 
 
 Thy wisdom raked into the tomb. 
 Their souls now in agony jaber, 
 
 Far down below China in gloom. 
 They've suffered enough for their folly, 
 
 Thou'st roasted their souls quite a spell, 
 Of late I have felt melancholy, 
 
 To think of their pains where they dwell. 
 
 We live, despite all their oppression, 
 
 We flourish, and foes we forgive ; 
 For every hard-hearted transgression 
 
 Committed we ask a reprieve. 
 The unsullied flags of our Orders 
 
 Are floating at mast-head supreme, 
 AH over this continent's borders. 
 
 We thank Thee, kind friend, for the same ! 
 
 Now, knock off their chains, the poor devils, 
 Thou'st taught them a lesson, I know ; 
 
 I'm anxious to witness their revels 
 In seas of ice water and snow. 
 
320 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 We freely forgive the jackasses 
 Now toasting on anthracite coals ; 
 
 We'll pass round the hat and have masses 
 Henceforth for repose of their souls. 
 
 TWO BURIALS. 
 
 My friend is dead — don't mind his name, 
 
 A man unknown to wealth or fame, 
 
 A plodder on life's lowly road, 
 
 Who daily felt privation's goad, 
 
 Who never got respite from work, 
 
 Nor never did his duty shirk 
 
 To win for wife or children bread. 
 
 Till called to join the legions dead. 
 
 A few companions at his bier 
 Lamented him with many a tear; 
 We bore his mortal part away 
 Into the church, then to the clay; 
 No organs pealed, no vocal song. 
 Assisted Jim's poor soul along, 
 No flowery wreaths, no censers swung, 
 Nor eloquence from priestly tongue. 
 
 Upon his grave we placed the sod. 
 And left him there alone with God. 
 We told his little ones and wife 
 We'd aid them in the fight for life, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 321 
 
 Then took our leave, then bits of crape 
 Did engines' cabs and handrails drape, 
 Which notified each toiling slave 
 One of our kin was in his grave. 
 
 What sounds are these? The sad bells toll 
 
 The dirge to speed a parting soul ! 
 
 A man of mark among the crowd 
 
 Is now arrayed in costly shroud ; 
 
 The choicest flowers deck his bier, 
 
 He's mourned in grief that seems sincere, 
 
 And hundreds come to view him dead 
 
 Who never had to toil for bread. 
 
 Now off to church 'mid drooping plumes, 
 
 And horses draped, and liv'ried grooms. 
 
 The organ sounds a doleful song. 
 
 As up the aisle he's borne along. 
 
 The clergyman is promptly there 
 
 'Mid flowery wreaths and tapers' glare, 
 
 And censers swinging to and fro. 
 
 In measured time, denoting woe. 
 
 The service that the church decrees 
 
 For those who pay her princely fees 
 
 Is now concluded, and the priest 
 
 Delivers forth an ornate feast 
 
 Of eloquence, with measured breath, 
 
 To eulogize him there in death, 
 
 And then the censers swing once more. 
 
 And then — post mortem rites are o'er! 
 
322 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 One died, but left no wealth to share 
 'Mongst those who did bewail him there. 
 The other had his bonds and stocks, 
 And gold secure 'neath banker's locks; 
 The church the first with service brief 
 Soon hustled off, devoid of grief, 
 The other in a princely way 
 Was wafted gently to the clay. 
 
 The Master, when earth's road he trod, 
 
 Proclaimed the poor was nearest God. 
 
 If back to us again he'd come 
 
 I guess he'd find things altered some; 
 
 The dollar is almighty here, 
 
 The churches at a poor man sneer. 
 
 And do not give a tinker's dam 
 
 About his soul, it's all a sham. 
 
 A NIGHT IN GLORY. 
 
 'Tother night I dove under the clothes in the 
 
 bed; 
 Not a whimper escaped from my slumbering 
 
 head ; 
 I was anchored secure in the dear land of Nod, 
 And in dreams I flew round where my feet never 
 
 trod. 
 A fine kingly salute at a gate I was given ; 
 As I entered I knew that the place must be 
 
 Heaven. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 323 
 
 The good Lord for His favor I thanked with 
 
 dehght, 
 As I froHcked about all that memorable night. 
 
 A fine, portly and handsome old fellow came 
 
 'round, 
 Who'd a magnetic voice, with a musical sound, 
 As he rolled out his mouthful of welcomes ga- 
 lore, 
 And I thought I beheld his kind features before. 
 "You're St. Peter," I said. "You are right, my 
 
 dear lad." 
 "To behold you again I'm exceedingly glad." 
 "You have reason to be," was his instant reply ; 
 " 'Tisn't every old tramp we admit in the sky." 
 "This is Heaven?" I said. "You're net blind; 
 
 can't you see?" 
 "Well, I guess I observe, but it's novel to me. 
 Such luxurious sights ! such contentment as now 
 Fills the cuts where the crows stuck their claws 
 in my brow." 
 "Bid adieu to all care. Here's a couch ; sit 
 you down, 
 While we wait for the chap who's gone after 
 
 your crown. 
 You have won your reward in the hardships 
 
 you've passed 
 On the railroads below. Now feel happy at 
 last." 
 
324 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 "Have you any in here?" "Yes, a trunk line 
 
 or two." 
 "Does a crown-sheet e'er drop?" "No, nor 
 
 leak from a flue." 
 "Are the engines good steamers?" "You bet! 
 
 and they go, 
 For the coal is supplied us from Hades, below." 
 "Do they pound?" "They're as stiff as a 
 
 mountain of brass." 
 "Have men plenty of oil?" "Do I look like 
 
 an ass 
 Who would persecute men for the need of 
 
 more grease?" 
 " 'Deed, you don't and God bless you, my mind 
 
 is at peace." 
 
 "I suppose you have master mechanics in 
 
 here ?" 
 "Don't you foolish yourself, they all have to 
 
 keep clear." 
 "Well, mechanical heads of departments?" 
 
 "Ach, nein. 
 They can never atone for the sins of lang syne." 
 "How are superintendents?" "As scarce as 
 
 hen's teeth, 
 But acushla machree, they are plenty beneath." 
 "Are there any chief clerks scattered round, 
 
 can you tell?" 
 "We've a few, but they're thicker than fiddlers 
 
 in hell." 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 325 
 
 *'Do the dirty low spawn of the offices try 
 To sneak up to these mansions of bHss in the 
 sky?" 
 "Well, I guess, but I fire them so far into 
 space, 
 Not a mark of their trail to the depths can you 
 trace." 
 "Are there any reports making Heaven a 
 fright, 
 Which we have to fill out in our own time at 
 night?" 
 "All reports are filled out full of well-disguised 
 lies ; 
 They're promoters of sin, and debarred from the 
 skies." 
 
 "Who is that fellow now they've kicked out 
 
 with such hate?" 
 "He's a double-eyed sneak, who hangs outside 
 the gate; 
 He's a tale-bearer since the bad hour of his birth 
 And a curse to the fine manly fellows on earth." 
 "Give me hold your fist," I exultingly said, 
 "You're a trump of a saint, and I'm glad that 
 I'm dead." 
 As I grabbed for his hand, holy mother, a scream 
 From the girl at my side put an end to my dream. 
 
326 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 REGRETS FOR MISSPENT HOURS. 
 
 The times are changing every hour, 
 And man for knowledge and for power 
 
 Is toihng late and early ; 
 All those who are endowed with brains 
 Can drive, they're masters of the reins, 
 
 In old times met with rarely. 
 
 We men, whose heads are turning gray, 
 Can well recall our first sad day— 
 
 And many more thereafter — 
 When in the cabs we tried to solve 
 Each problem, with a grim resolve, 
 
 Amid spectators' laughter ! 
 
 And yet, wt somehow got along. 
 
 We learned the right thing from the wrong. 
 
 We wrought with good endeavor ; 
 We filed our brasses, keyed our rods, 
 And put in springs, 'gainst fearful odds 
 
 Of rusty jack and lever. 
 
 We set our valves by gauge or sound, 
 Our wedges lined to stop the pound, 
 
 We also set out packing. 
 Until we couldn't hear a blow 
 'Neath valves or rings, as on we'd go, 
 
 Although in learning lacking. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 327 
 
 We're men who rose from lowly ranks. 
 Who owe to none but Nature thanks 
 
 For every inch ascension ; 
 We lived before the days of schools, 
 And had to go by horse-sense rules, 
 
 And seldom met declension. 
 
 Schools now abound of every grade, 
 Where heads requiring brains are made, 
 
 All over this great nation, 
 Where every branch of learning's taught, 
 And ignorance is bravely fought 
 
 By art of education. 
 
 Oh, could we but have had the chance 
 Men nowadays have to advance, 
 
 How gladly we'd enjoy it; 
 Each hour we've squandered by the way, 
 In indolence or thoughtless play, 
 
 In study we'd employ it. 
 
 Take this advice, dear readers, all: 
 ''Where'er your lot in life may fall, 
 
 Or high or low your station. 
 Acquire all learning that you can ; 
 A dullard ne'er can gain life's van, 
 
 For lack of education." 
 
328 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 TIME'S CHANGES. 
 
 I have been to the regions of nethermost hell, 
 But, thank God, 'twas a nightmare I had or a 
 dream, 
 And when back with my cronies such tales did I 
 tell. 
 Of the sights which I saw, that they all gave 
 a scream. 
 There were plenty of ten-per-cent-ofif boys I met, 
 Who were shackled together for slashing our 
 pay ; 
 And, of course, all were sorry to hear how they 
 sweat. 
 And would gladly have taken their sufferings 
 away. 
 
 How reductions were piled upon top of our backs 
 In those days long ago by the play boys I saw ! 
 They imagined forever they'd rule o'er the 
 tracks. 
 And would keep us their slaves without pro- 
 cess of law. 
 But old cloven-foot Lucifer caught them at last. 
 And he tickled their gizzards in pits full of 
 flame ; 
 Where they're browning for sins they commit 
 in the past. 
 When they threw leaded dice, but were caught 
 at the game. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 329 
 
 How they hankered to crush our old Brother- 
 hood then ! 
 And they gave it full many a jab in the neck; 
 But thank Jove, though they hit us again and 
 again 
 Our old Admiral yet is in charge of the deck ; 
 We are growing in numbers, and growing in 
 wealth, 
 And in peace with officials united we dwell. 
 While the kibos who sneaked on our strongholds 
 by stealth 
 Are enjoying hot weather where snow never 
 fell. ' 
 
 What a change since those days of reductions 
 and strife ! 
 Now the song which we chorus is "Ten per 
 cent more," 
 Our officials all love us like groom does his 
 wife, 
 And our buckets have pie, meat and cookier> 
 galore ; 
 And a dollar or two in our pockets we've got 
 
 To assist us in sickness or sorrow the while ; 
 And perhaps a good, savory Gtew in the pot, 
 And one's wife at the door with a welcoming 
 smile. 
 
 Here is health in cold water tonight to the men 
 At the head of affairs ; may their numbers in- 
 crease. 
 
330 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 And I hope nevermore must my truth-telling pen 
 Have occasion to say we're not living in peace. 
 
 All the land's at high tide of financial success, 
 And the Brotherhood lives, while old enemies 
 roast 
 
 Below China, enduring the greatest distress, 
 Who to crush us kept up a continual boast. 
 
 WINTER REVERIES. 
 
 There's another winter coming, 
 When the blizzards will be humming. 
 
 And the hummocks piling upward toward the 
 sky. 
 When our bodies will be pelted 
 With the snow before it's melted ; 
 
 And old "hogs" upon the up-grades fall and die. 
 
 Soon the flanges will be icy, 
 
 And our frozen hash unspicy, 
 As we snatch it mad with hunger from the pails ! 
 
 All the store-teeth lads must munch it. 
 
 While we'll vigorously crunch it. 
 Cuddled in the bleary cabs to dodge the gales. 
 
 There is little joy before us, 
 How official cranks they'll score us. 
 Charging engine failures up against the hand 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 331 
 
 That the trottle-bar and lever 
 Moves with eloquent endeavor, 
 Short of water, coal, and oil, and waste, and 
 sand ! 
 
 There is vengeance, sure and certain, 
 When grim death will drop the curtain 
 
 On some scalawags of autocrats we've here ; 
 Down in Pluto's black dominions 
 They'll find heat to singe their pinions 
 
 At the first whiff of his dirty atmosphere ! 
 
 Oh, my sunny Southern Brothers, 
 
 Thank your stars or thank your mothers, 
 Or your fathers of the fates that gave you birth ; 
 
 In your shirt-sleeves you may wander. 
 
 And on winter flowers ponder, 
 In delightful garden places of the earth ! 
 
 Here in this land — Lord Almighty ! — 
 
 My poor brain is growing flighty, 
 Thinking of our stiffened joints and biting cold. 
 
 In the cuts and grades and so forth, 
 
 Over which we'll have to go forth, 
 With our hands so blue a lever we can't hold. 
 
 But we're tough, and don't forget it. 
 And we'll conquer, you may bet it, 
 For 'tis seldom one can kill us with a club ; 
 
332 SHANDY MAGUIRE*S POEMS 
 
 And our climate, we defy it 
 In its vicious moods or quiet, 
 And we'll neither starve nor steal when hunting 
 grub. 
 
 And perhaps beyond life's portals. 
 Our poor souls amid immortals 
 May get harps, and crowns, and time to sing and 
 crow. 
 To reward them for the tussle, 
 Made with brain and toughened muscle. 
 Which have never yet succumbed to frost or 
 snow. 
 
 ANOTHER IDOL SHATTERED. 
 
 My dear Brown, you have knocked all the 
 
 notions up high 
 
 Which I've harbored and sung of for years; 
 
 I suppose that beneath your much-glorified sky 
 
 One could dream life away till the sweet by and 
 
 by- 
 So Dick Kelly at Norfolk declared. Did he lie 
 When bewitching us bold engineers? 
 
 All my wearisome life have I sighed for your 
 
 clime ; 
 And bewailed where my anchor was cast ; 
 Yes, and knitted my brows hunting plausible 
 
 rhyme, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 333 
 
 To express to you all in presentable chime, 
 How I worshipped surroundings I fancied sub- 
 lime, 
 During many long years that have passed. 
 
 When the snowdrifts were over the top of the 
 stack, 
 And big icicles hung from my nose ; 
 When the frozen-zone demons took charge of the 
 
 track. 
 And the cold chills were scooting the length of 
 
 my back. 
 How I sighed for your hills and your valleys, 
 alack, 
 Till I'd thaw out my ears and m\' toes ! 
 
 On my knees have I prayed for a glimpse of the 
 blue 
 
 Of the skies you have over your head ; 
 And I thrilled hearing Kelly orate on the hue 
 Of the odorous flowers, to dawn on our view, 
 If we'd pile in our votes as requested to do. 
 
 And keep step to the march which he led. 
 
 How we'd envy the boys on the coast as we'd 
 crawl 
 With a ballahoo into a cut, 
 Without water or fuel or victuals at all. 
 Or a dago or mick to respond to our call, 
 Where we'd shovel, until from exhaustion we'd 
 fall, 
 And our poor sleepy eyes we would shut! 
 
334 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 But when birds from the Southland returned in 
 the spring, 
 We forgot all the hardships behind; 
 Neither sandblasts nor blizzards, nor freshets 
 
 they'd bring, 
 As again they'd delight us on melody's wing, 
 With their throats full of song, which they'd 
 gloriously sing, 
 And we then to our clime felt resigned ! 
 
 Our thermometer, boiling at ninety degrees. 
 
 Dallies but a few days at the best ; 
 Even then, every night we are lulled by a breeze, 
 Which comes stealing along through the leaves 
 
 on the trees, 
 Bearing perfume of flowers frequented by 
 bees : 
 Which assures us a heavenly rest. 
 
 You're a chap like myself, full of truth to the 
 chin. 
 
 As a Brother, your friendship I claim ; 
 How slick liars discount the old father of sin, 
 When they try California tourists to win, 
 As they tell of that land with a hypocrite's grin. 
 
 In a manner we'd fly from in shame ! 
 
 Here's my hand, and in fancy extend me your 
 
 own, 
 But if ever we meet, set it down, 
 That I'll shake till I bring from your bosom a 
 
 groan, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 335 
 
 With the pressure you'll feel upon muscle and 
 
 bone ; 
 And together we'll chat of the years which have 
 flown, 
 Since I first read your letters, dear Brown. 
 
 IN NATURE'S TEMPLE OF WORSHIP. 
 
 Come out in nature's temple. Jack, 
 
 'Neath heaven's dome, to pray ; 
 We'll take our leave of railway track, 
 Until from service we'll get back, 
 This holy Sabbath day. 
 
 Dear mother church may promulgate 
 
 Her legal bans, but we 
 Shall worship where the song-birds mate. 
 With thanks to God, from hearts elate. 
 
 Who gave us hill and lea. 
 
 Observe the trees in verdure dres't. 
 That for long months were bare, 
 By gentle zephyrs they're caress't, 
 Which trip here lightly from the west 
 A mass of perfumed air. 
 
 The sky is now an azure deep, 
 
 Of limitless delight ; 
 Our hearts salute it as they leap, 
 Awakened from the freezing sleep, 
 
 Of many a wintry night. 
 
336 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 The odor of the flowers fills 
 My sense of smell with joy 
 My breast with adoration thrills 
 'Mid landscapes, and 'mid babbling rills, 
 On every hand, my boy. 
 
 Within cathedrals organs peal. 
 
 And vocal sounds arise ; 
 But here our inmost hearts can feel, 
 That God His presence does reveal 
 
 From yonder sunny skies. 
 
 We are not pampered sons of wealth, 
 
 Broad lands are not our share, 
 We sometimes feel the loss of health 
 And have to take an hour of stealth 
 To bask in balmy air. 
 
 And yet, and yet, my life-long friend, 
 
 We taste some joys in store; 
 We see the various colors blend 
 O'er sweeping vales, with silent trend, 
 And God's work we adore ! 
 
 The warblers sing their roundelays. 
 
 The butterflies and bees 
 Are jubilant in songs of praise 
 To Him, for all his mystic ways, 
 
 In peerless sights, like these. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 2>Z7 
 
 Perhaps beyond life's portals, Jack, 
 
 When all its cares are o'er. 
 Such splendors we shall never lack, 
 When freed from burdens of the track 
 
 On Canaan's happy shore. 
 
 Beyond the ills so often met, 
 
 Which sometimes strike us dumb, 
 Beyond the worry and the fret, 
 Beyond the aching bones and sweat, 
 In longed-for Kingdom Come. 
 
 AFTEE THE BALL. 
 
 On a personal invite, 1 went t'other night, 
 
 Out along with the boys and girls to a ball, 
 How I reveled around with the greatest delight, 
 
 Just as young as the youngest that was in the 
 hall! 
 When I first heard the music, it limbered me up, 
 
 And Idooked for a ''flower" that grew at the 
 wall, 
 And I coaxed her to come on the floor for a hop ; 
 
 Pretty soon we were skipping away at the ball. 
 
 There I capered and pranced, promenaded and 
 swung, 
 Every chord sent a thrill of old times through 
 my brain. 
 
338 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Oh, those long ago days, when both bUthesome 
 and young. 
 All my blood was a vortex of bubbling cham- 
 pagne ! 
 And my partner, oh, dear ! she was wTeathed 
 with smiles. 
 And she tickled my fancy with eloquent 
 praise, 
 I could prance o'er that ballroom a million of 
 miles, 
 Just to list to her taffy and think of those days ! 
 
 There is something bewitching in ''all promen- 
 ade." 
 ''Swing your partner" can knock the rheu- 
 matics sky high 
 When one's arm goes around a bewitching young 
 maid, 
 Only wanting two wings to float off to the sky ! 
 Every strain of the band did my puddinghead 
 fill, 
 And my breast was aglow with flush feelings 
 
 of joy, 
 As I capered about in a romping quadrille. 
 
 With the shuffle of feet which I used as a boy. 
 
 Every joy has an ending — mine came none too 
 soon. 
 I went home, and I threw myself onto the bed. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 339 
 
 Very briefly came cramps, then a stitch, then a 
 swoon, 
 And a doctor, of course, they supposing me 
 dead. 
 I was brought back to hfe. When full conscious- 
 ness came, 
 I had no aspirations for living at all ; 
 And my ailment was given a medical name. 
 Known as "leg-tangle palsy," oft caught at a 
 ball. 
 
 There are some men so easily flattered, they 
 think 
 When a woman smiles on them she loves them. 
 I'm one. 
 I drank full to the muzzle of taffy's sweet drink ; 
 Never doubting my partner until she had gone! 
 Then I thought to myself, ''What a hoary old 
 fool !" 
 As I groaned in the bed, with my face to the 
 wall. 
 I have plenty of chums who attend the same 
 school — 
 Giddy gray-beards, who totter around at each 
 ball. 
 
340 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 FIGHTING SNOW IN A CUT. 
 
 I was sick, yes, I had a brief dose of the grip, 
 I recovered, and went out the road for a trip. 
 To fight snow in the cuts, which were filHng quite 
 
 full, 
 The old mill which I ran was an engine-house 
 
 cull; 
 She was fit to be scrapped, great Jehovah ! her 
 
 like 
 Isn't running today on a lumber-camp pike ! 
 But I managed to get her well out of the yard. 
 With the help of my stoker, a faithful old pard. 
 
 Her black pointer it held up its head for a spell, 
 Then it paused for an instant, then backward it 
 
 fell. 
 But we ran for the drift at a pretty good gait. 
 And we buried her up, then prepared for a wait, 
 'Till the diggerG would come. We slashed over 
 
 the fire, 
 To get steam to inject her. The pointer rose 
 
 higher, 
 Yes, and also the water, two gauges we got. 
 Then we dropped the back curtain, until she'd 
 
 get hot. 
 
 To the dear land of Nod in a jiffy I sped. 
 Where all thoughts of old pelters flew out of my 
 
 head, i 
 
 I was soon in a dream, one I'll never forget. 
 It is niched in the halls of my memory yet ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 341 
 
 There the season was nearing the last end of 
 June, 
 
 I was stretched in a hammock. "The glorious 
 orbed moon" 
 
 Was chock full to the muzzle, the same as my- 
 self, 
 
 As I swung 'neath the maples, a fortunate elf! 
 
 Within reach was a maiden, a Hebe in grace ; 
 
 She was young, and she had a most beautiful 
 face. 
 
 As I swung to and fro she kept fanning me there. 
 
 And small blame if I thought her the queen of 
 the fair. 
 
 I kept chinning soft nonsense, she made fit re- 
 plies, 
 
 How I felt when I'd gaze in her bonnie blue 
 eyes ! 
 
 I was nose-deep in glory, my head swelled with 
 pride, 
 
 As she kissed me and said I could make her my 
 bride. 
 
 Then the nightingale's song on the spice-laden 
 
 breeze 
 Made the atmosphere vocal. I drank to the 
 
 lees 
 Of the nectar the gods sent to give me delight. 
 And approve my betrothal, that mem'rable night. 
 
342 shandv maguire's poems 
 
 Then we talked of our nuptials. She wanted to 
 
 wait. 
 I requested her kindly to make a near date. 
 And the charmer consented to crown me with 
 
 bliss, 
 Then I sprang from the hammock to give her a 
 
 kiss. 
 
 Holy Moses ! I found myself down on the deck ! 
 Where I rolled from the seat, an old physical 
 
 wreck ! 
 With the pointer at zero, the fire-box as black 
 As the cloud that rolls out of a smoke-burner's 
 
 stack, 
 And the crown-sheet was sending down oceans of 
 
 tears. 
 'Twas a sight that oft buckled up good engineers. 
 The old pelter was dead — worse than that, and 
 
 my God ! 
 I just prayed to be like her, down under the sod. 
 
 A JOYFUL DELUSION. 
 
 'Tis very strange what curious things run 
 
 through a fellow's head 
 When weary from a day of toil he stretches on 
 
 the bed. 
 Last night fatigued, and full of pains, I tossed 
 
 from side to side, 
 Until accumulated ills proclaimed that I had 
 
 died; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 343 
 
 I heard the waihngs of my friends, at first so 
 
 loud and shrill, 
 Then sinking to a minor key, and then completely 
 
 still. 
 A little while, and forward came two heartless 
 
 wretches in. 
 To decorate me for the grave, one had a hellish 
 
 grin ; 
 He smoked a pipe, the weed was rank, he swore 
 
 with every whifif, 
 And cried, **Be quick, come, bear a hand, until we 
 
 stretch the stiff." 
 The tapers next were placed about my head in 
 
 stylish rows ; 
 And Kitty's tears were running down upon my 
 
 face and nose, 
 I wondered in my fevered dream were they from 
 
 grief or joy, 
 Or if she'd ever try to catch another handsome 
 
 boy. 
 
 The neighbors came in twos and threes, some 
 
 seemed to be in woe, 
 While others prayed as if they saw my suffering 
 
 soul below. 
 One gossiping old fish wife stood above my silent 
 
 clay. 
 And said 'twas only loss of time for my poor soul 
 
 to pray. 
 
344 SHANDV maguire's poems 
 
 That Satan had me safe and sound within his 
 
 clutch at last, 
 Because at times I failed to keep our holy 
 
 church's fast ; 
 I tried to limber up my leg, but tied were both 
 
 my toes ; 
 Or, durn her eyes, that hag would get my foot 
 
 upon her nose. 
 
 The boys came in, two deep, to take the last sad 
 
 look upon 
 The silent chap that made them smile in days 
 
 now past and gone ; 
 The girls came next, I heard them praise, how 
 
 beautiful I lay : 
 "Oh ! isn't it too bad," they cried, "that he has 
 
 passed away, 
 He was so sweet !" Lord ! how I thrilled to hear 
 
 such tender praise, 
 And there I did my level best myself to gently 
 
 raise. 
 My efforts failed, and then I knew 'twas death 
 
 without mistake. 
 Or crimson lips with honeyed words could rouse 
 
 me wide awake. 
 
 The muffled drum in solemn tones now smote 
 
 upon my ears ; 
 And many sparkling eyes were moist, and some 
 
 were shedding tears. 
 
SHANDV MAGUIRe's POEMS MS 
 
 Along to church I then was brought its last sad 
 
 rites to share, 
 And have my pastor tell how much my soul, was 
 
 needing prayer. 
 Adown the aisle the chap that's named ''the poet 
 
 of the rail" 
 Was borne, -amid such grief that seemed a uni- 
 versal wail. 
 Inside the chancel in his robes a well known form 
 
 I saw, 
 A man who often labored hard to make me keep 
 
 the law. 
 He read a chapter, then he knelt a little while, 
 
 and soon 
 The angels in the organ loft struck up a plaintive 
 
 tune ; 
 They sang it in melodious voice. The moment of 
 
 its close, 
 To roast a poor, dead erring chap his reverence 
 
 arose : 
 "Ah, there he lies, behold him now — he'll never 
 
 scoff again, 
 Or ridicule the truths I preach in sanctimonious 
 
 strain ; 
 He'll not dispute the meaning of the Holy Scrip- 
 ture now ; 
 He's passed the great tribunal, where all such as 
 
 he must bow. 
 In charity I'd like to pass his wayward follies by, 
 But, friends, my duty is to teach the living how 
 
 to die. 
 
346 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 That man within the casket there broke every 
 
 rule was made 
 To keep the flock within the fold, and very sel- 
 dom prayed. 
 He broke the Ten Commandments oft, and to 
 
 his lasting shame, 
 When reprimanded, he replied that Moses did 
 
 the same; 
 He broke the precepts of the church, and on her 
 
 penal days. 
 His appetite to gratify good Christians he'd 
 
 amaze ; 
 He'd lick his lips for ham and eggs on Fridays 
 
 or in Lent, 
 And ne'er on penitential knees his errors he'd 
 
 repent. 
 He was a black sheep in my flock. A false light 
 
 on the shore. 
 Whose disputations long and loud in grief I did 
 
 deplore. 
 His saintly wife did all she could to make him 
 
 come to church. 
 But very seldom would his feet be known to 
 
 cross the porch ; 
 She did her duty well I know, and made his life 
 
 so hot. 
 To have him heed, that seldom coal was wanted 
 
 in his cot. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 347 
 
 At last she's free, poor patient soul ! her future 
 is secure, 
 
 A pious man to fill his place she shortly may pro- 
 cure — •" 
 
 "Not much !" I cried, as with a spring I bounded 
 from the bed, 
 
 To find 'twas all a foolish dream about my being 
 dead. 
 
 A LULLABY. 
 
 What song shall I sing for my boy tonight? 
 
 Shall it be of the sounding sea, 
 Where the hurricane sweeps with gigantic might, 
 
 And with chorus of ghoulish glee? 
 Shall I sing of the calm in the liquid caves 
 
 Where the force of the tempest dies. 
 Or the creamy foam on the crest of the waves, 
 
 As they leap toward the inky skies? 
 
 Shall I tell of the ships and the dauntless tars. 
 
 By the drive of the breakers tossed 
 On rock-bound shores or harbor bars. 
 
 Till the ships and crews are lost? 
 -Shall I tell of the time on the Spanish main, 
 
 When the cut-throat buccaneers 
 Dyed the water red with the blood of the slain 
 
 And unheeded their victims' tears? 
 
348 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 Shall I sing of the seas where the icy blasts 
 
 Chill the marrow in human bones? 
 Of the bergs that rise o'er the loftiest masts, 
 
 Drifting round in the frigid zones? 
 Where explorers find not the northwest course, 
 
 Nor ofttimes their homeward path, 
 But are crushed to death by the mighty force 
 
 Of the bergs in their drifting wrath? 
 
 It would curdle the blood in thy youthful veins 
 
 If I were to relate such tales; 
 So I'll sing of the flower-bespangled plains 
 
 And the shady emerald vales, 
 Of the songbirds flitting from tree to tree 
 
 And caroling notes of joy ; 
 And I'll tell of the haunts of the bumble bee. 
 
 To delight my darling boy. 
 
 So now, hurrah for the sylvan streams, 
 
 Where the gamy trout is found, 
 And the mossy sod where rich verdure teems 
 
 And the butterfly flits around ; 
 Where the robins mate, and the ring doves coo, 
 
 And the lambkins frisk and leap. 
 Now listen attentive, ''my yittie gugoo" — 
 
 Why, bless me, he's fast asleep. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 349 
 
 MEDITATIONS. 
 
 I stood in the potter's field thinking one day, 
 Over the mounds where unfortunates lay ; 
 Noting the graves of the luckless and poor, 
 Thinking of all they were called to endure, 
 Ere they were stricken by want and disease. 
 Which ended their lives and brought to them 
 
 peace ; 
 There they were huddled together like stones. 
 With barely a handful of earth on their bones. 
 
 Soggy and wxt was the soil on each mound, 
 Rank were the weeds which encumbered the 
 
 ground, 
 Rude were the marks on the boards at their 
 
 heads. 
 Telling who skpt in the mud-streaming beds ; 
 Here it was, "Father, for whom we do mourn," 
 There it was, ''Mother, who'll never return," 
 Over beyond 'twas "A sister we love," 
 Or ''a brother now happy in heaven above." 
 
 Up on the hill 'neath the evergreen trees, 
 Where the foliage rustles and sways in the 
 
 breeze. 
 Up where the grasses are nurtured with care, 
 And flowers spread perfume abroad in the air, 
 Monuments rise of the grandest designs, 
 Richest of marble from Italy's mines. 
 Telling of loved ones inurned below, 
 And wept for in couplets of classical woe. 
 
350 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 There I stood thinking, my brain ever rife, 
 Trying to solve the great problem of life ; 
 Asking myself why should these in the tomb 
 Sleep their last sleep 'mid the verdure in bloom, 
 While the poor lorn ones over the way 
 Slept in wet mud holes, scarce hid in the clay. 
 Where the rank thistles and burdocks just hid 
 Hemlock and pine of the cheap coffin lid ? 
 
 Answer me, clerics, whose Scriptural lore 
 Aids you earth's mystical things to explore? 
 Tell me, why here on this earth must the poor 
 Suffer and sink when they cannot endure 
 All of the tortures which poverty brings, 
 Cruel and crushing in deadliest stings. 
 Then, when at last it deprives them of breath. 
 Why must their bones be afflicted in death? 
 
 Come, solve me the problem, where is the reward 
 Held in store for the poor? Is the fault with the 
 
 Lord? 
 Are you sure that a man linked to sorrow and 
 
 strife 
 After death is assured of eternity's life? 
 Is religion dealt out in our churches today 
 With regard for hereafter, regardless of pay? 
 Is the gospel alike for the Christians and Jews ? 
 And impartially preached to your flocks in the 
 
 pews ? 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 351 
 
 Do you favor the rich man and scoff at the poor ? 
 
 Are the mendicants driven away from the door? 
 
 Are you careless of bodies and seek but the 
 souls ? 
 
 Do you mete out salvation according to tolls ? 
 
 Can a poor man have services read o'er his bier 
 
 Just the same as a rich man, with hearts as sin- 
 cere? 
 
 Now, awaiting your answers, I'll pause with my 
 pen, 
 
 Then perhaps, reverend friends, I may write you 
 again. 
 
 TO MY WIFE— A LA MODE. 
 
 Dear Wife: Sweetheart of long ago, 
 
 Somewhere within the misty past : 
 When you and I trod to and fro, 
 
 And swore our spooning days would last 
 I'm troubled with the blues tonight, 
 
 A fit of most cerulean hue. 
 And, while I'm in this downcast plight. 
 
 Some questions, love, I'll ask of you : 
 
 Suppose the grim destroyer. Death, 
 Should straggle with his scythe along. 
 
 To slit my windpipe, stop my breath, 
 And kick me 'mid the ghostly throng. 
 
352 SHANDY MAGUIRE's PO^MS 
 
 Would you remain in widow's weeds, 
 And weep your sparkling eyes away 
 
 In anguish that by far exceeds 
 
 Your plaintive murmurs every day? 
 
 Now tell me, darling, tell me true. 
 
 When in the casket I'd repose 
 Would tears of grief be shed by you 
 
 Until they'd trickle down your nose, 
 When gazing on the silent lips 
 
 That thrill'd you with a love divine 
 When you and I sailed freighted ships 
 
 Of fancy east of life's mid line? 
 
 Of course you're not like other wives. 
 
 Who decorate themselves in black. 
 Just like the way a road gang strives 
 
 To renovate old worn out track ; 
 You'd never wear a sable veil, 
 
 Unless as emblem of your mind. 
 Or let it down your shoulders trail 
 
 To catch admiring chaps behind. 
 
 Would frantic screams be heard to ring 
 
 Above the brazen drum's tattoo 
 When six stout lads would march to bring 
 
 My mortal part away from you? 
 Or would you gently sob and moan, 
 
 In fashion's latest style of grief, 
 Reserving anguish till alone. 
 
 To give your troubled heart relief? 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 353 
 
 You see I'm confident, my love, 
 
 The olden fires are burning still ; 
 And no one — save great Jove above — 
 
 Could change your predetermined will 
 To live a life of widow'd wails. 
 
 To sigh for me, to weep and moan, 
 To furl your old coquetting sails. 
 
 And every night retire alone. 
 
 You'd sadly miss me from your side. 
 
 When searching round to find the form 
 To which on wintry nights you'd glide 
 
 Beneath the sheets to keep you warm ; 
 Besides you'd feel much cause for pain. 
 
 When sleeping in a lonely room ; 
 You, in a little while, might fain 
 
 Desire some chap to share your gloom. 
 
 Long custom, darling, slowly grows 
 
 The most imperative of laws. 
 I fear, to ease your widow'd woes, 
 
 You'd reason from efifect to cause. 
 To sleep alone would feel so sad. 
 
 For you who felt my arms for years ; 
 I think another handsome lad 
 
 You'd try to catch to dry your tears. 
 
 Oh, love! such thoughts I can't endure, 
 They tear my heart in anguish wild 
 
 Until my tears in rivers pour, 
 
 Like dribbles from a teething child; 
 
354 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 And sooner than give up my life, 
 To place you in temptation's way, 
 
 I'll keep on deck, my darling wife. 
 As long as God will let me stay. 
 
 TO GRAND MASTER SARGENT. 
 
 Dear Frank: I'm on the wing tonight. 
 
 And full of fancies flowing; 
 'Tis just the time I love to write, 
 
 When fluent thoughts keep glowing. 
 Until they reach a fever heat. 
 
 And flit in n:^asured numbers ; 
 So, sit beside me on this seat, 
 
 We'll chat while Kitty slumbers. 
 
 This is a wicked world, Frank, 
 
 'Tis full of roguish schemers ; 
 But you and I can Nature thank. 
 
 She made us harmless dreamers. 
 We're innocent as turtle doves. 
 
 Perpetually cooing, 
 With willing mates, where balmy groves 
 
 Invite a ceaseless wooing. 
 
 I know you're not a saint, my boy. 
 You're many leagues behind on€ ; 
 
 'T would fill our honest hearts with joy 
 If we could only find one. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 355 
 
 You've tramped this country more than I, 
 
 And been in places many ; 
 Did ever you, when stroUing by, 
 
 E'er stumble over any? 
 
 No doubt you may have angels met, 
 
 Sweet, wingless, charming creatures ! 
 Whose lisping lips you'll ne'er forget, 
 
 Or dear bewitching features? 
 You haven't, eh? Indeed I fear 
 
 I'll taunt with words uncivil. 
 Just lend me your attentive ear : 
 
 *'Tell truth and shame the devil." 
 
 I like you, Frank, your honest face 
 
 Is handsome and transparent ; 
 And on it I can plainly trace 
 
 Sincerity apparent. 
 There's not a lady in the land 
 
 Could keep her heart from beating. 
 If she'd but see your smiles so bland. 
 
 And saintly eyes dilating. 
 
 I wish I had your winning ways, 
 
 And sweet, seductive blarney. 
 Until I'd skirmish 'round the bays 
 
 Of much beloved Killarney, 
 Where elfin sprites are rich, I'm told, 
 
 And open to persuasion ; 
 Dear Frank, I'd soon have lots of gold, 
 
 And wouldn't fear starvation. 
 
356 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 A hand upon the furnace door, 
 
 Or leg coiled round the lever, 
 Is sure to keep a fellow poor 
 
 And hold him there forever. 
 Provisions gained by "honest toil" 
 
 Don't need much skillful carving, 
 They taste like West Virginia oil, 
 
 And simply save from starving. 
 
 Some men can live on water, Frank, 
 
 And some on airy nothings ; 
 And many a raphsodizing crank 
 
 Bescribbled lines of frothings, 
 Reclining in an easy chair, 
 
 How man should toil contented — 
 By Jove, I toil and starve, I swear, 
 
 And almost am demented! 
 
 My darling in the bedroom, oft 
 
 In earnest conversation. 
 Directed all my thoughts aloft. 
 
 And urged me to salvation ; 
 She told me of the joys above, 
 
 For those who wished to find them, 
 Where souls are sure of endless love. 
 
 When leaving earth behind them. 
 
 She feels she's right — she always is — 
 Since first on life's young morning 
 
 She grew to love my handsome phiz. 
 She fights my doubtful scorning. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 357 
 
 She tells of fires that belch severe, 
 To purge my skeptic laughter ; 
 
 Dear girl ! She keeps me blistered here 
 With sermons on hereafter. 
 
 Ah ! well, my moralizing pen 
 
 Begins to rudely caper; 
 To sermonize some railroad men 
 
 Is only waste of paper. 
 I don't insinuate that you 
 
 Are in this category; 
 I know you'll get a sleeper through 
 
 To everlasting glory ! 
 
 My thread of thought is rudely cut, 
 
 Dear Frank, my girl is calling! 
 I'd like to linger longer, but 
 
 I must appease her bawling. 
 Good night ! I wish you lots of joy. 
 
 When Jove his stock's disbursing; 
 And may you never know, old boy, 
 
 The terrors of dry-nursing! 
 
 A VACATION AT THE SEASHORE. 
 
 Kate and I packed our duds up together 
 And went to the shores of the sea. 
 
 Away from the midsummer weather, 
 Our hearts full of juvenile glee. 
 
x358 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 We closed all the blinds, so our neighbors 
 Would know we were sniffing ozone, 
 
 Away from our work-a-day labors, 
 
 Where beach combers die with a moan. 
 
 We sighted the ocean next morning, 
 
 And went to a stunning hotel, 
 Then down where the sun was adorning 
 
 The crest of each big creamy swell. 
 Kate said: ''This is health-giving pleasure. 
 
 Inhaling the salt-laden breeze, 
 And here 'tis dispensed without measure, 
 
 Right fresh from the tops of the seas," 
 
 The bedroom assigned us was really 
 
 No bigger I'll swear than a trunk, 
 I hankered to stretch my legs freelv. 
 
 If but in a fisherman's bunk ; 
 When Kate would her frizzes go twisting, 
 
 I had to remain in the bed, 
 And list to the charmer insisting 
 
 I'd old-fashioned thoughts in my head. 
 
 I grit my teeth tightly together 
 
 And never once tremored a lip. 
 Because 'twould be wrong in such weather, 
 
 Besides, she was bossing the trip; 
 I merely "put up" when invited, 
 
 My job was dispensing the swag. 
 Which kept me so really delighted, 
 
 Some thought I'd a beautiful jag! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 359 
 
 The menu — oh, say I am weary, 
 
 And bent nearly double with grief, 
 I failed in convincing my dearie 
 
 ]My teeth couldn't crunch the bull beef! 
 The butter ran over the platter. 
 
 The tea was a dirty dish wash, 
 The pudding a sort of a batter 
 
 That tasted like tow line and hash. 
 
 The napkins and so forth were rather 
 
 A little the worse for the wear. 
 No wonder ! for huddled together 
 
 Some scores on vacation were there. 
 The service was tedious and faulty 
 
 The waiters chock full of conceit. 
 The cooking decidedly salty, 
 
 Though sometimes they sugared the meat. 
 
 We daily took dips in the ocean. 
 
 Said Kate : "We are now in the swim." 
 But water in wind-driven motion 
 
 Can thump with considerable vim ; 
 It treated us all democratic. 
 
 It is no respecter of wealth. 
 It tossed us about so despotic 
 
 We'd die, but endured "for our health." 
 
 At night, on the crowded veranda, 
 We gossiped of this one and that. 
 
 Picked flaws in some lanky Amanda 
 With too many plumes in her hat. 
 
360 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Mosquitoes were there by the million, 
 They jabbed me with merciless hate, 
 
 I danced a wild Irish cotillion, 
 
 My eyes shooting daggers at Kate. 
 
 I said: ''You've a heart most inhuman 
 
 To bring me along with you here ; 
 Come home, like a sensible woman. 
 
 Or widowed you'll soon be, I fear." 
 She smiled in her manner bewitching. 
 
 And whispered, "Because you are sweet, 
 Mosquitoes insist on you itching 
 
 Yourself from your head to your feet." 
 
 "Oh, none of your taffy," I told her, 
 
 "You can't come your blarney on me." 
 The Lord knows I hated to scold her. 
 
 But sick I was now of the sea. 
 ''Come back to your own little shanty. 
 
 And, darling, you know we will there 
 Enjoy homely blessings in plenty, 
 
 Surrounded by pure country air. 
 
 "I never have felt you are homely, 
 
 But oft has my bosom been proud 
 To witness you shapely and comely 
 
 And fit to be seen in a crowd. 
 But, gosh ! in your bathing apparel, 
 
 A rusty straw hat on your head. 
 You look like some ancient old girl 
 
 Dug up for a swim from the dead! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 361 
 
 'There's nothing but scratch and starvation 
 
 Right here in this blooming abode, 
 God knows, if you call this vacation, 
 
 I'd rather tamp ties on the road. 
 I want a square meal of your cooking, 
 
 The sort you give daily at home, 
 I'm sick dress-parading and fluking 
 
 In wet flannel tights in the foam." 
 
 Once more, where this jingle I'm scribbling, 
 
 I taste homely comforts of life ; 
 Kate ceased opposition and quibbling. 
 
 Again she's a dutiful wife ; 
 We don't go from home for enjoyment, 
 
 To roll in the swim or the swell, 
 We 'tend to our daily employment, 
 
 Away from a seaside hotel. 
 
 A SIGN OF SPRING. 
 
 Today I heard a robin ; 
 
 His old familiar trill 
 Right through my heart went bobbin' 
 
 Tho' cold as winter still ; 
 He tells me it is over. 
 
 And since he went away, 
 He lived in fields of clover. 
 
 And sported every day. 
 
362 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 'Twas down in southern valleys, 
 
 Where sunshine lingers long, 
 And every songster rallies, 
 
 To fill the vales with song; 
 While we are fighting blizzards, 
 
 And digging out the trains. 
 With cold and hungry gizzards, 
 
 And almost stagnant brains. 
 
 He tells of southern Brothers 
 
 In shirt-sleeves on the rails, 
 While our beloved mothers. 
 
 Amid the driving gales, 
 Would never know the darlings 
 
 They danced upon their knees, 
 Unless 'twas by their snarlings, 
 
 And efforts not to freeze. 
 
 There is a land of all lands 
 
 Beyond this vale of tears, 
 Where wreaths of choicest garlands 
 
 Are waiting engineers, 
 Who toil with brain and muscle 
 
 To keep old mills alive, 
 Through many a weary tussle 
 
 Of ceaseless drudge and drive. 
 
 From there no robins wander — 
 'Tis summer all the time ; 
 
 Fond hearts ne'er drift asunder, 
 In that delightful clime. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 363 
 
 I h^ard so from my pastor, 
 
 Long years and years ago, 
 Ere called to meet his Master, 
 
 Away from frost and snow. 
 
 SIGHS FOR SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. 
 
 I sigh for Pasadena, 
 
 Where flowers are aglow, 
 I long for Catalina, 
 
 Away from frost and snow; 
 I'd like to view the roses 
 
 Profusely growing round 
 Where frozen ears and noses 
 
 Are nowhere to be found ! 
 
 The zephyrs tripping lightly 
 
 In orange groves along, 
 And siroccos so sprightly 
 
 Are musical with song ; 
 While here the roaring blizzards, 
 
 With devil's-fury rife, 
 Come tearing round our gizzards, 
 
 And cut us like a knife. 
 
 Grand lemon trees in blossom 
 I dream of every night, 
 
 I press them to my bosom, 
 In daring rapture tight: 
 
364 SHANDY MAGUIRE^S POEMS 
 
 But briefly I enjoy them, v 
 
 The pelting of the gale 
 
 Abruptly makes me fly them, 
 To fight the wintry rail. 
 
 In Redlands — Holy Father! 
 
 Tis there I'd like to be, 
 Than Heaven I would rather 
 
 That glorious place to see ! 
 But hummocks round me growing 
 
 And cold chills in the air, 
 And frost and constant snowing 
 
 Denote I'm far from there. 
 
 O land divinely blooming 
 With flowers rich in hue ! 
 
 O skies that know no glooming 
 To shade their deepest blue! 
 
 mountain peaks sky kissing! 
 O vales of Paradise — • 
 
 Alas, such sights I'm missing 
 Here 'mid the snow and ice. 
 
 1 sigh for Pasadena, 
 Where flowers are aglow; 
 
 I long for Catalina, 
 
 Away from frost and snow ; 
 
 But what's the use in sighing 
 For God's most favored clime, 
 
 While here with cold I'm crying, 
 And crooning out this rhyme? 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 365 
 
 AT THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND. 
 
 My poor old friend of bygone days, 
 
 That five feet down is lying, 
 I've come amid the full moon's rays, 
 
 With two eyes red from crying, 
 To sit awhile upon your grave 
 
 Tonight soliloquizing. 
 While night winds through the grasses rave, 
 
 As I sit moralizing. 
 
 Six months ago, or maybe more, 
 
 The requiem mass was chanted. 
 And then we laid you here, asthore, 
 
 Beneath the maples planted. 
 Poor Mary was convulsed with grief, 
 
 We could not pacify her. 
 In sobs we let her seek relief, 
 
 Ere anguish would destroy her. 
 
 She bought the richest kind of crape. 
 
 Her plumes of sable dancing, 
 Kept many eyes and mouths agape. 
 
 As at them folks stood glancing ; 
 She mourned you. Jack, in finest style, 
 
 Her purse has great endurance, 
 Her grief she labored to beguile. 
 
 Thanks, lad, to your insurance. 
 
 Her trailing veil was all the rage, 
 
 She dressed in rich apparel, 
 That threw ten years from off her age, 
 
 And made her look a girl. 
 
366 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Some said she casts a yearning eye 
 Oft at your foe, Tom Barry ; 
 
 But, Jack, we gave the rumor he. 
 And swore she ne'er would marry. 
 
 Now if your ghost can hear me, hst — 
 
 Oh, poor old worn-out toiler ! 
 That couldn't hoarding wealth desist, 
 
 But always delved a moiler 
 For woman fickle, faithless — say ! 
 
 Her grief was light and airy, 
 The banns in church were called today, 
 
 Tom takes your place with Mary ! 
 
 Now, don't turn over in your grave, 
 
 Or kick like holy Moses, 
 She couldn't otherwise behave. 
 
 With two cheeks red as roses, 
 And dollars in her purse galore. 
 
 That you yourself provided ; 
 No widow with them yet, asthore, 
 
 In singleness resided. 
 
 Good-night, old friend, 'tis growing late, 
 
 Too long I mustn't tarry ; 
 Tomorrow I must dress in state, 
 
 As best man to Tom Barry ! 
 They're going on their wedding tour 
 
 To trans-Atlantic places. 
 To sport the cash you left, while you're 
 
 Down there in earth's embraces. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 367 
 
 A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE. 
 
 "Are you guilty or not?" said the judge to me, 
 And I then collapsed upon bended knee, 
 
 With my two hands clasped, imploring; 
 *'Oh, Judge," I cried, ''I am innocent, 
 And to fire the shot I had no intent. 
 
 It was hell in my breast was warring. 
 
 *'I went out with the boys, when I drew my pay. 
 For a little time, just to while away 
 
 An hour or two in the city ; 
 But I drank too deep of the fiery stufif. 
 For I didn't know when I had enough, 
 
 \nd I now implore your pity." 
 
 "You'll have justice dealt you," His Honor said, 
 ''There is little doubt that a man is dead. 
 
 Off from earth by a pistol hurled. 
 Call the witnesses !" Every one gave oath 
 That I fired the shot. They were nothing loath 
 
 To assist me out of the world. 
 
 The jury united my guilt decreed. 
 
 "Oh, God!" I exclaimed, "in this hour of need. 
 
 Will you shield me from shame and sorrow !" 
 But a drunken wretch is beyond His care. 
 And I got my sentence then and there. 
 
 That Fd die at the dawn of the morrow. 
 
368 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 I was taken back, when I heard my doom, 
 For an hour or two to the Hving tomb. 
 
 While the gallows was preparing ; 
 I was dazed with grief and I cowered with 
 
 shame, 
 For I brought disgrace on my friends and name. 
 
 And I tossed in the "cage" despairing. 
 
 My relatives came to take their leave, 
 For they failed to get me a day's' reprieve. 
 
 Oh ! the look of their pallid faces ! 
 But my cup flowed over with black despair, 
 When my four-year-old, with the golden hair, 
 
 Croodled in to me for embraces. 
 
 And she lisped: "Oo must never get drunk no 
 
 more," 
 Then the hangman came to my prison door, 
 
 And he said : "For the end get ready." 
 Oh, my God ! my God ! is it come to this? 
 Then all gathered round for the parting kiss. 
 
 And the good priest said: "Be steady." 
 
 Then began the march to the gallows tree. 
 With my life to pay for a drunken sprpe. 
 
 Amid blood-curdling sobs and screaming; 
 With a sudden snap all my heartstrings broke. 
 And Great God be thanked, I then awoke. 
 
 And I found I was only dreaming. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 369 
 
 A FRIEND'S SILVER WEDDING. 
 
 Dear Tom, 'tis five and twenty years 
 Since one of nature's comely dears 
 
 The spell of love cast o'er you, 
 And at the altar made your life 
 So blest when she became your wife, 
 
 And promised to adore you. 
 
 You were the envy of us all, 
 
 Kate looked so queenly, sweet and tall, 
 
 A Juno in her motion, 
 An angel made of flesh and bone. 
 Who'd melt a heart of hardest stone, 
 
 And make it yield devotion. 
 
 One little angel flew away 
 
 To realms of never-ending day, 
 
 To rank amid immortals ; 
 The home, indeed, seemed desolate. 
 When flowery wreaths and little Kate 
 
 Were carried through its portals. 
 
 You're young as in those days gone by 
 Of which I tell, not so am I, 
 
 The ills of age I'm dreading; 
 You yet retain the stalwart stride 
 You had when first you kissed your bride. 
 
 Tonight's your silver wedding. 
 
370 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 And Kate yet keeps her comely youth, 
 A handsome dame she is, in sooth, 
 
 Arrayed in styUsh dresses ! 
 What's better, Tom, a faithful wife 
 She proved to you all through her life. 
 
 And knows but your caresses. 
 
 Come, fill the bumpers to the brim, 
 My worthy friends, with hearty vim, 
 
 Clasp hands and circle near me; 
 Dear Kate, let mine be lemonade. 
 And let the tongues of all be staid 
 
 A minute till you hear me. 
 
 ''I was your 'best man' on the night 
 When holy church the marriage rite 
 
 Gave flattering espousal ; 
 I always found your latch-string out. 
 And never did your friendship doubt 
 
 Since that long gone carousal. 
 
 "The post of honor yet I fill ; 
 
 So, here's a toast, drink with a will. 
 
 With hip hurrah, and standing! 
 May health and wealth, and happiness 
 Still all beneath this roof-tree bless • 
 
 From dome to outside landing. 
 
 "And may your faces never show 
 A single line of care or woe, 
 
 Or mark where crows love treading, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 371 
 
 For decades yet, adown life's tide, 
 Until again, as groom and bride, 
 You'll have a golden wedding. 
 
 "Come, drain your glasses, every drop, 
 Fill up again, we'll never stop — 
 
 Oh, what's the use to blather? 
 To judge our feelings by our thirst, 
 We'll drink your healths until we burst, 
 
 Or all get drunk together." 
 
 THE NIGHT WHEN WE WENT SLEIGHING. 
 
 One moonlight night, when fleecy clouds 
 
 Across the sky were floating, 
 Like giant ghosts wrapped in their shrouds, 
 
 I took a fit of doting. 
 I said, "Old sweetheart, don your wraps, 
 
 My heart won't brook delaying, 
 Dispel all thoughts of other chaps, 
 
 And with me, love, come sleighing." 
 
 My horse had spirit, strength and speed. 
 
 And restive to be fleeing ; 
 My dear old girl looked sweet, indeed, 
 
 A fascinating being ! 
 We huddled up, she crowded close, 
 I And off we sped together. 
 
 Aglow with love's o'erflowing dose, 
 
 Despite the wintry weather. 
 
2)>72 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 A fiery pace we drove along, 
 
 And ne'er in summer bowers, 
 Amid the sounds of wild birds' song, 
 
 Had life such joy as ours. 
 The moon was full — and so was , 
 
 Of feelings pure but glowing — 
 Unmindful of the western sky, 
 
 Fast clouding up for snowing. 
 
 "Oh, sweet!" I said, ''your pu-sing lips 
 
 Are strewn with peerless blisses, 
 And happy is that chap who sips 
 
 Intoxicating kisses." 
 I dropped the lines, I clasped her up, 
 
 Just as the moon was hidden, 
 My shying steed a sudden stop 
 
 He quickly made unbidden ! 
 
 Against a drift of mammoth size 
 
 We instantly rolled over, 
 Amid her scolding and her cries 
 
 I gathered up my lover. 
 But when her mouth was clear of snow 
 
 She said, 'mid peals of laughter, 
 "Why, you're a fool ! I'll never go 
 
 To drive with you hereafter." 
 
 My jealousy soon thawed me out. 
 Her words were most provoking. 
 
 But when she saw I meant to pout. 
 She said she was but joking. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 373 
 
 Again I caught her. "Please," said she, 
 ''While compliments you're paying, 
 
 Be sure you give the lines to me, 
 Whenever we're out sleighing." 
 
 A SEPTEMBER DAY. 
 
 Sitting alone 'mid the floating shadows. 
 
 Dreaming of hours full of rapture sweet. 
 Spent with my love where the fruitful meadows 
 
 Filled up a picture of joy complete. 
 Memory vividly brings before me 
 
 Every scene that has passed away. 
 And pleasing fancies are floating o'er me, 
 
 Thinking upon a September day. 
 
 The hills were brown and the grain was yelt;W, 
 
 The trees were tinged with an autumn hue. 
 The fruit hung down both ripe and mellow. 
 
 Beneath a sky of the deepest blue. 
 The air was rich with the scent of clover. 
 
 The zephyrs toyed with the new mown hay. 
 As I sat and rode alongside my lover. 
 
 That long departed September day. 
 
 Her eyes with the fires of love were beaming. 
 Her form was lithe and of queenly mold; 
 
 Her hair was in graceful ringlets, streaming, 
 And o'er her shoulders profusely rolled. 
 
374 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Her voice like the notes of birds when mating, 
 Full of the blooming joys of May, 
 
 Trilled me and kept my heart dilating 
 
 With new found bliss that September day. 
 
 A balmy feeling of perfect pleasure 
 
 Seemed to possess both her heart and mine ; 
 And rapture filled out a flowing measure 
 
 Of nectar sweeter than richest wine. 
 Into our souls through our eyes were flashing 
 
 Glances of love in a ceaseless play, 
 Closer and closer our hearts enmeshing, 
 
 That dreamy delightful September day. 
 
 Many moons have changed since those hours de- 
 parted, 
 
 And time is moving with onward stride. 
 But I know my love is as faithful hearted 
 
 As she was the day of our autumn ride. 
 And while memory lives she will rise before me, 
 
 A peerless queen in her bright array, 
 Shedding the balm of her presence o'er me, 
 
 Just as she did that September day. 
 
 THE MASaUERADE. 
 
 I have read in Saxe's poems how Count Felix 
 
 once essayed 
 To enjoy a flirtation at a fancy masquerade ; 
 How a stream of florid language ran in rapture 
 
 from his tongue. 
 And he wooed a stately lady, whom he fancied 
 
 fair and young, 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 375 
 
 Till the moment of unmasking, then the doting 
 
 fool beheld 
 His own handsome, comely daughter, and his 
 
 fiery pulse was quelled. 
 Pay attention, patient reader, to these lines, and 
 
 ere they close 
 You will find more fools than Felix shuffling 
 
 'round on ancient toes. 
 
 T'other night, on invitation, off I sauntered to a 
 
 ball. 
 Soon I saw a lonely ''flower" that was growing 
 
 near the wall. 
 She appeared a perfect Hebe, bust delightful, 
 
 slender waist. 
 Ah, thinks I, this prize I'll capture — in deport- 
 ment she is chaste — 
 And I'll have a flirtation while the dancers are 
 
 in glee. 
 If I can induce the charmer to exchange some 
 
 talk with me ; 
 Soon, without an introduction, T was filling up 
 
 her ears 
 With a tale of admiration, that would melt a 
 
 saint to tears. 
 
 She was' mute, she scarcely answered, and her 
 voice was meek and low ; 
 
 To my queries she would simply give a whis- 
 pered yes and no. 
 
376 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 I grew eloquent, emboldened by her silence then 
 
 and there, 
 And her reticence, I told her was a jewel very 
 
 rare, 
 "If I had a wife I'd love her, should she be so 
 
 mannered mild," 
 Then methought the darling creature at my 
 
 language merely smiled ; 
 Oh ! I glowed with ardent longing, and I told 
 
 her that her charms 
 Would be sung in strains of rapture if she'd 
 
 nestle in mv arms. 
 
 "Lonely years through life I wandered, seeking 
 
 'round for my ideal. 
 Now, my dear one — moving closer — here you 
 
 stand a perfect real, 
 For I'm sure you are an angel, one who loves 
 
 this sinful earth. 
 Full of charity for creatures, like myself, of 
 
 mortal birth ; 
 I am fond and very foolish to confess my heart- 
 felt love, 
 But you know mankind is finite, and the heart 
 
 inclined to rove^ 
 Here I stand in adoration, like a pious devotee. 
 And I hope your lovely features you'll unmask 
 
 mv love, for me." 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 377 
 
 Twas a waltz the band was playing, and a chord 
 
 of louder strain 
 At that moment seemed to thrill me, and to fire 
 
 my longing brain. 
 Most imprudently I caught her; she resisted, in 
 
 the strife 
 Off her mask came, great Jehovah ! there before 
 
 me stood my wife! 
 And her tongue, that scarce could falter yes and 
 
 no for half an hour 
 Grew as natural as ever, filled with all its pris- 
 tine power. 
 Heaven help me, for I need it, yet, dear reader, 
 
 there are more 
 Like your truthful, humble servant, who got 
 
 caught and suffered sore. 
 
 THERE'S SUNSHINE AHEAD. 
 
 I remember one winter the ''beautiful" lay 
 
 Piled in hummocks all over the track. 
 Much too often disputing my right to the way, 
 
 As it rose to the rim of the stack. 
 On one trip of a sudden as light grew each flake, 
 
 I observed a dark cloud fringed with red. 
 And I cried to my fireman, "Old pard let us 
 shake ; 
 
 See that omen of sunshine ahead !" 
 
I 
 378 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Soon the snowing had ceased, we ran out of the 
 storm, 
 
 And again saw the blue of the sky; 
 Felt our spirits ascend as the weather grew 
 
 warm 
 With no thoughts of the hardships passed by. 
 Thus it is on the road that we journey along, 
 
 With our hearts much too often like lead, 
 If we'd only break in with a snatch of a song. 
 
 We would sooner gain sunshine ahead. 
 
 I have no use at all for old owls on a perch, 
 
 Sitting croaking the whole of the day ; 
 Or for preachers who groan every Sunday in 
 church 
 About sleep under five feet of clay. 
 People don't want to buy bottled darkness to. 
 keep; 
 To such sermons they'll never respond ; 
 'Tis more pleasant to preach with a smile than to 
 weep, 
 And to tell of the sunshine beyond. 
 
 We have tragedy here on all sides, I confess, 
 
 Oh, but comedy, too, plays a part ; 
 There are times when we bend 'neath a load of 
 distress, 
 
 Till we feel most all gone round the heart; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 379 
 
 If a friend, about then, would come close to our 
 ears. 
 And just whisper us, seemingly fond: 
 "There's nothing to gain from your eyes full of 
 tears, 
 Wipe them off, think of sunshine beyond !" 
 
 As I've trudged on life's road I have sounded 
 the deeps 
 Where the ills of humanity reign; 
 But Vd hustle my way out again up the steeps, 
 
 For I'd die if below I'd remain. 
 When I'd get to the top I would think what a 
 goose 
 I was down stretched on misery's bed. 
 Then I'd laugh at my woe, pitch despair to the 
 deuce 
 And stride off toward the sunshine ahead. 
 
 There is no one so poor but can boast of a friend, 
 
 If his heart is but in the right place ; 
 And may hold him close up to its beats till life's 
 end 
 
 With a feeling that naught can efface. 
 Let us lean on each other when tempests arise, 
 
 And give proof that in sorrow we're wed, 
 If we do, very soon neath serenity's skies, 
 
 We may bask in bright sunshine ahead. 
 
380 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 THE TOILER'S DAWN. 
 
 Awake, ye men, in your towering might. 
 
 Awake from your slumber long; 
 Lift the somber pall from your starless night, 
 
 Let your hearts exult with song! 
 For the sun of hope in the Orient skies 
 
 Has dawned, and its morning beams 
 Bid the toiling slaves from the earth to rise, 
 
 And shake off their inactive dreams. 
 
 Too long our backs felt the cruel scourge. 
 
 Which was plied with a vengeful ire ; 
 And our wails were heard, as we crooned a dirge, 
 
 When a brother would expire. 
 Too long we toiled 'neath the weary load 
 
 Of incessant hourly toil ; 
 And our recompense was the fearful goad. 
 
 To repay us for life-long moil. 
 
 But a change has come, and we hail the dawn 
 
 Of the new-come welcome day ; 
 When those endowed with both brain and brawn 
 
 Are in union's grand array. 
 To unbind the chains which too long have bound 
 
 Their limbs, and heartless might 
 Must stand appalled at the stirring sound 
 
 Of the men demanding right. 
 
 Oh, noble heroes of the rail ! 
 
 Brave hearts of an iron mold ! 
 Who fight with death, and who never quail. 
 
 Until lying stark and cold ! 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 381 
 
 While justice is the goal ye seek, 
 
 Your mission is assured ; -" 
 If your manhood rules, and your thousands speak, 
 
 In one union till secured. 
 
 It is thirty years since slavery fell, 
 
 Stricken by the towering wrath 
 Of the dauntless men who rang its knell, 
 
 As they drove it from their path. 
 And it never more can rise again, 
 
 With its welts and its bleeding scars, 
 To astound the gaze of united men, 
 
 While we live 'neath the Stripes and Stars. 
 
 So brothers all of the scoops and brakes. 
 
 Of the punches and levers, too, 
 Grasp your hands around and with hearty shakes, 
 
 All avow you'll your duty do. 
 And some much sought rights we'll soon receive 
 
 From the men whom you served so long ; 
 It is justice speaks and we need reprieve 
 
 From full many a cruel wrong. 
 
 MAY. 
 
 Once more we have beautiful weather, 
 Sweet harps are atune in the trees ; 
 
 All round us is newly-grown heather, 
 There's health in the spice-laden breeze ; 
 
382 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 The songsters, melodious, are singing 
 
 Exultingly over the sod. 
 All nature is joyously winging 
 
 Great praise to omnipotent God. 
 
 On yonder green upland we tarried 
 
 For many a long wintry hour, 
 And there in yon cut we lay buried. 
 
 Cold, hungry, and waiting for power 
 To pull us from under the hummocks. 
 
 To get us in motion again ; 
 To thaw out the chills from our stomachs, 
 
 And find were we corpses or men. 
 
 Behold where that rose-tree is growing ! 
 
 'Twas there that we jumped from the rails. 
 One night in the drifting and snowing 
 
 And pelting of merciless gales ; 
 The blue sky of May is above it. 
 
 Inviting the roses to bloom! 
 Gold bless its deep azure, we love it — 
 
 And never look back to the gloom. 
 
 O Nature, our marvelous mother! 
 
 Here in your cathedral we bow : 
 Our thankfulness ne'er should we smother, 
 
 For sights which we're gazing on now. 
 The hardships of winter are ended. 
 
 The uplands, the valleys and plains, 
 Are garbed in a verdancy splendid. 
 
 Where erstwhile we stalled with our trains. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 383 
 
 When life's toilsome journey is over, 
 
 God grant that our souls may arise 
 The same as the grasses and clover, 
 
 To bloom evermore in the skies ; 
 Away from our struggles diurnal, 
 
 To get the scant mouthful we eat, 
 Where joy on her throne rules eternal, 
 
 Above this abode of defeat. 
 
 AT THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND. 
 
 I stood 'longside a new made grave, 
 December winds did round me rave. 
 The one beneath in life I knew. 
 And every day admired him too. 
 A man he was of mien uncouth. 
 Who hourly toiled from early youth, 
 At everything that came along, 
 And lightened labor with a song. 
 
 He never injured man or maid. 
 His honest debts he always paid ; 
 His wife and children he adored, 
 And for their sakes he wealth implored. 
 He wasn't what some people call 
 "Strict orthodox," saw good in all. 
 And that's the reason I am here, 
 'Longside his grave to shed a tear. 
 
384 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 The Church decreed his clayey bed 
 Should not be near her faithful dead; 
 Her burial rites she did deny, 
 Uneulogized his bones must lie. 
 Because he didn't roll his eyes 
 Beneath her roof up toward the skies, 
 With thanks to God for this and that, 
 While she'd be passing round the hat. 
 
 Great Jove, of supreme power above, 
 Who knows how well he hourly strove 
 To win a share of daily bread 
 Will never persecute him dead, 
 Because he doubted things he heard 
 About hereafter, most absurd. 
 Beyond the reach of common sense, 
 That's why he lies outside the fence. 
 
 He's got more room to molder now 
 Than if her mark was on his brow ; 
 In yonder field are many stones 
 Above the faithful's crumbling bones, 
 All epitaphed — 'twixt me and you, 
 Not one in ten of them is true — 
 While he is sleeping all alone. 
 His grave devoid of cross or stone. 
 
 Dear life-long friend your journey's o'er, 
 I hope your soul has reached that shore 
 Where toilers find eternal rest. 
 And every one's a welcome guest. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 385 
 
 The lazy, prayerful, tearful crowds, 
 That went across in laundered shrouds, 
 If they've been given harps and wings 
 Your lot is 'mid eternal kings. 
 
 LIKES AND DISLIKES. 
 
 I love an off-hand manly chap, 
 
 However greasy is his cap. 
 
 If rich or poor, or gay or lorn. 
 
 One just the same at night or morn, 
 
 Without a shadow of pretense. 
 
 Whose brain has got some common sense, 
 
 Whose heart at times is tuned to glee — 
 
 Such is the chap adored by me. 
 
 I do not care a picayune, 
 
 If he's an animated ruin. 
 
 If his old duds are tattered rags. 
 
 Or if he shakes from frequent jags; 
 
 If nature planted in his breast 
 
 The seed of manhood, then the rest 
 
 Is surely there, for he'll be brave, 
 
 Instead of being a fawning slave. 
 
 A railroad aristocracy, 
 Shall much too soon around us be , 
 We now can note the haughty smile, 
 When Fanny struts in latest style, 
 
386 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Who six or seven years ago, 
 When walking, saw her sockless toe 
 Cut through her shoe. She's now a bird, 
 And most precise in every word ! 
 
 Her husband's head's expanded bad, 
 
 He used to be a social lad 
 
 When we tossed blocks together ; now 
 
 He thinks there's no one like his f rau ; 
 
 He minds not days when engineers 
 
 Had less of pay-check smiles than tears, 
 
 When Julia hadn't satin gowns, 
 
 Or on her pock-marked features frowns ! 
 
 It isn't right to soar so high, 
 Beneath an ever-changing sky; 
 Today you're rich, tomorrow's sun 
 May light you on the downward run, 
 Without a friend close at your side, 
 To help you stem misfortune's tide. 
 Should that time come, you'll wish to God 
 To be six feet beneath the sod. 
 
 THE TOUGH TIME COMING. 
 
 Dig out your arctics and rubber boots. 
 Your winter togs and your flannel suits, 
 You seasoned vets and you raw recruits. 
 For the tough old times are coming ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 387 
 
 Dense banks of clouds just o'er us fly, 
 Unfailing sign of a wintry sky. 
 And they tell of hardships by and bye, 
 When the blizzards shall be 
 
 Along from now till the buds of May, 
 
 The atn:osphere up in Hudson's Bay 
 
 Will come with a vengeance down this way, 
 
 And pierce us with devil's fury ; 
 'Twill make us shiver and shake and roar, 
 From our nose-tips through to the inmost core 
 Of our hearts the same as so oft before. 
 
 Regardless of judge or jury. 
 
 With the big drifts pelting a hell's hurrah, 
 With the cramping pangs of a hungry maw, 
 And our hash so stiff it would break one's jaw. 
 
 And the blizzards o'er us sweeping ; 
 'Tis then we think of the summer moons, 
 And the squandered piles of big doubloons. 
 And faded joys of the long gone Junes, 
 
 When the pulses of youth were leaping. 
 
 Tb- mammoth hogs of the modern rail 
 Lie down too soon in a screeching gale. 
 Themselves and ourselves are doomed to fail 
 
 In a don't-give-a-damn contented ; 
 Till the dagos come with their scoops and picks, 
 And a rearguard also of stalwart Micks, 
 To reduce the drifts with cuffs and licks, 
 
 When the blizzards have relented. 
 
388 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 In a few short years, at the very best, 
 
 We will get from our troubles a good long rest, 
 
 If the Church speaks truth in her creed confessed. 
 
 Where we'll all have pews together. 
 In a place where the rough and tumblers dwell, 
 Who have fought for grub on the grades pell- 
 mell, 
 In a place our reverend friends call — well. 
 
 In a place where is no cold weather. 
 
 STINTED, CALCULATING CHARITY. 
 
 The poor wretch, he begged a nickel and what 
 mattered it what for? 
 If for bread or beer, his stomach was the best 
 judge of its needs ; 
 Those who pause disbursing favors all good- 
 hearted men abhor. 
 They've no use for benefactors who dole char- 
 ity by creeds. 
 He was begging, 'twas sufficient, and he looked 
 most abject too, 
 With the mercury at zero, and the rags upon 
 his back 
 Let the winds from Manitoba in a hurricane pass 
 through, 
 'Twas no time for hesitation, and one's purse 
 strings should be slack. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 389 
 
 There be those who'll ask one's nation, his re- 
 ligion and so on, 
 Ere their mustard seeds of gizzards to poor 
 pleaders will respond ; 
 They'll outstare the sad-eyed creatures, those 
 whose lives are nearly gone, 
 And who stand upon the threshold of the great 
 unknown beyond. 
 Think, if health and friends should leave you, 
 and you had to face the blast, 
 With a stomach wild with craving, and it 
 gnawing for relief. 
 Would you then bepraise the donor, who would 
 pause and doubt your past 
 As he doled you out a nickel to assuage your 
 nameless grief? 
 
 "God rewards the cheerful giver," and the wid- 
 ow's mite is .sure 
 To ascend above the planets, where recording 
 angels stand. 
 To write down all benefactions /which are given 
 to the poor. 
 In that awful book of records kept in Canaan's 
 happy land. 
 If for beer or bread, what matter, so we heed the 
 sad appeal 
 To appease the fearful gnawing of the wretch 
 who supplicates? 
 And if cheerfully we do it, how much better will 
 wx feel. 
 When we're called for final judgment passing 
 through the Pearly Gates. 
 
390 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 ON A REVEREND FRIEND'S DEPARTURE ON 
 A VACATION. 
 
 Dear father, before you depart, 
 
 I meekly solicit your blessing. 
 Bon voyage, I wish from my heart, 
 'Mid tear-drops most ready to start. 
 
 And feelings at parting distressing. 
 
 You've toiled in God's vineyard right here 
 
 With all of a zealot's devotion. 
 For many a wearisome year, 
 'Tis time for a season you'd steer 
 Away for a rest o'er the ocean. 
 
 If I had your job, my old friend, 
 
 I'd envy no Saint up in glory, 
 A paradise here would I spend. 
 Till life's very furthermost end, 
 
 An octogenarian hoary. ' 
 
 You've only to pass round the hat, 
 
 And tell your good people you're ailing, 
 'Twill soon be filled up for you fat. 
 With fives and ten dollars at that, 
 
 And hearty God-speeds to you sailing. 
 
 This winter's not very severe. 
 Yet, father, I'd like to be going 
 
 Away with your reverence from here, 
 
 To stifle my breast full of fear. 
 
 Expecting the freezing and snowing. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 391 
 
 I know you would settle all bills, 
 ''God blesses the generous giver ;" 
 
 I don't require tonics or squills, 
 
 Peruna, Nervura or pills, 
 
 To tune up my stomach or liver. 
 
 We'd tumble old care to the fish. 
 
 Once Sandy Hook ranged o'er the stern 
 
 We'd dine on full many a dish. 
 
 And gratify each honest wish 
 We'd hanker for till our return. 
 
 I don't think you'll give your consent. 
 You call me a hardened old sinner ; 
 If with you I go, I'll repent, 
 And chew every Friday next Lent 
 The tail of a herring for dinner. 
 
 God speed you again. May the skies 
 And the seas keep coquetting together, 
 
 As blue as my own darling's eyes. 
 
 To give you a glorious surprise. 
 Of fair and enjoyable weather. 
 
 THE CHIEF CLERK. 
 
 His nibs is a wonderful fellow, 
 Wlien once he gets hold ot a pen, 
 
 Or typewriter, how he can bellow 
 When lifting the scalps of poor men ! 
 
392 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 He sits at his desk in his glory, 
 "He's monarch of all he surveys ;" 
 
 The wretch would grow instantly hoarv. 
 Who'd dare in his presence to sneeze. 
 
 The Czar of the Russias is truly 
 
 A babe in his scepter of state. 
 Compared to this Mickey Gilhooley, 
 
 Who thinks he's of lineage great. 
 He throws down the name of his master, 
 
 To philippics coined in his brain, 
 Intended to strike with disaster 
 
 Poor slaves of the engine or train. 
 
 How oft we are drugged with the malice 
 
 We get in full doses of guff. 
 Till full is our lives' bitter chalice, 
 
 From reading his damnable stuff! 
 In sarcasm ''mighty is Allah," 
 
 And keen as a mid-winter breeze. 
 When pen-dressing down a poor fellow. 
 
 Concluding like this : "Will you please ?'' 
 
 Some other sour pen-pushing apers 
 
 Surround his great highness serene, 
 Who dance when his majesty capers, 
 
 Whose style slinging ink is as mean. 
 That honest word "please," how it suffers. 
 
 Performing ambiguous work 
 For all of the poll-parrot duffers 
 
 And whale of the crowd, the chief clerk. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 393 
 
 A man who attains a high station, 
 
 Has tact, or he'd never arise ; 
 His head doesn't suffer inflation. 
 
 Or daggers don't shoot from his eyes. 
 'Tis underhngs think they are mighty. 
 
 When clad with authority brief ; 
 They soar up to atmosphere flighty, 
 
 And fancy themselves are the chief. 
 
 We know some head clerks who are gentle, 
 
 And patient and kind, but they're few ; 
 In physical form, and in mental. 
 
 They stand out in every man's view. 
 We send them a kind salutation ; 
 
 They're sure of promotion ahead; 
 For t'others, we'll pray for salvation 
 
 From fathoms in Hades when dead. 
 
 SMOKELESS FIRING. 
 
 I've lived on earth for many years, 
 
 The same as countless others. 
 Good firemen and good engineers, 
 
 Endeared to me as brothers ; 
 We rose to progress on the rail. 
 
 And much we found inspiring. 
 But never met that word called "fail" 
 
 Till here came smokeless firing. 
 
394 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 It is a fraud, or else a fad, 
 
 Beyond the bounds of reason, 
 To keep soft-coal dispensers mad 
 
 Both in and out of season. 
 Concocted in some fellow's brain, 
 
 Dead stuck on self-admiring, 
 Who fancied he could pull a train 
 
 On time with smokeless firing. 
 
 There's only one place w^here it works. 
 
 And that is down beneath us ; 
 Where every hare-brained mother's turk 
 
 On equal grounds must greet us ! 
 There's no fog there, it's all white flame, 
 
 And cranks new fads desiring 
 May get their hearts full of the game 
 
 They preach of — smokeless firing. 
 
 THE BROTHERHOOD BARNACLE. 
 
 He always was boasting his pull with the lodge. 
 And work he endeavored to ceaselessly dodge ; 
 Hs tongue was perpetual motion almost, 
 And eloquent giving officials a roast ; 
 The road wasn't managed to suit him at all, 
 The trains were too heavy, which caused them to 
 
 stall. 
 The coal was but dirt, wasn't fit to make smoke. 
 And the fellow who purchased it only a bloke. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 395 
 
 Mis engine required to be jacked from her frame, 
 Her pistons were blowing, her valves they were 
 
 lame ; 
 Her flues they were dragging with mud through 
 
 the sheet, 
 And would not take up, for they could not get 
 
 heat ; 
 Her pins were untrue, all her brasses played out. 
 And her boxes were ceaselessly flopping about ; 
 Her guides had a rattle, her links were too 
 
 loose — 
 Oh, say? Such a chap should be fired to the 
 
 deuce. 
 
 The schedule he carried for hourly review, 
 To prove by it work not his duty to do, 
 He'd always debate it, construing each clause 
 To win from some fellows just like him, ap- 
 plause ; 
 Neither he nor his pals gave a thought to the men 
 Who bearded the lion right into his den ; 
 Who went, at the risk of their jobs, to obtain 
 From managers, rights on the engine and train. 
 
 To meeting, whenever in trouble, he'd go. 
 And occupy time telling chapters of woe; 
 He'd make out a case for the Grievance Com- 
 mittee, 
 He "built it on justice," he said, "and not pity;" 
 
396 SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 He urged the immediate attention of those 
 Who often endured railway managers' blows ; 
 When forced to defend worthless fellows like 
 
 this, 
 Their only reward oft a cobra's hiss. 
 
 Thank God for the wisdom our leaders display, 
 It gives us a Brotherhood useful today ; 
 Twill not go to war in defense of a wrong, 
 Nor let the disturbers have charge of it long ; 
 'Twill stand by the poorest, if only he's right. 
 And win for him justice, if needs, with a fight; 
 But, asking for justice, the same it must give, 
 So roads and ourselves can in harmony live. 
 
 ON THE DEPARTURE OF A FRIEND. 
 
 We felt, oh, so sad, when you left us. 
 
 Our anguish can never be told. 
 All joy at the notice bereft us. 
 
 Our hearts took a shiver with cold ; 
 We knew when we heard you were going. 
 
 We'd never get over our grief, 
 Mein Gott ! how our tears down were flowing ! 
 
 Alas! who can give us relief? 
 
 Oh, parting ! there's nothing but trouble 
 
 Right here in this world of ours, 
 Life's sweets, which you made round us bubble, 
 
 Are all at our loss gone to sours ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 397 
 
 We gathered in groups to bewail you 
 When truth set its stamp on our loss, 
 
 God pity the man who'd assail you, 
 The rascal to Hades we'd toss ! 
 
 Some said that a nice presentation 
 
 Subscribed by us all on the road, 
 Would grace such a gloomy occasion — 
 
 Our grief's incomparable load ; 
 While others insisted on saying 
 
 "No present could fathom our grief." 
 We then on our knees all flopped praying 
 
 For Jove to extend us relief. 
 
 Sure, parting from friends is a sorrow, 
 
 It opens the floodgates of tears, 
 Now hopeless we look on the morrow. 
 
 Because all the friendship of years 
 Is severed — God help us — forever, 
 
 Your goodness we loudly recall. 
 Your life was a ceaseless endeavor 
 
 To prove your great love for us all. 
 
 Bye, bye, dear ; ta, ta, love ; God speed you ! 
 Oh, smooth be the road you may tread ; 
 May angels thrice daily be near you. 
 
 And feed you on well-buttered bread ; 
 And now, from our hearts which are breaking 
 
 All over each mile of the track. 
 We sorely regret the leave-taking. 
 
 And pray, "May you never come back." 
 
398 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 ILLUSTRIOUS GUESTS. 
 
 I'm delving 'mongst my books tonight, 
 
 The choicest gems perusing, 
 For all alone, I take delight 
 
 Amid the poets musing; 
 Rich melodies I cull from Moore, 
 
 Enshrined in mental urns, 
 And next inside the ploughman's door, 
 
 I chat with Bobbie Burns. 
 
 Majestic strains from Byron's lyre 
 
 Salute my glowing fancy. 
 And Walter Scott's poetic fire, 
 
 Can sway like necromancy. 
 The martial strains of Homer's song 
 
 Roll forth in liquid sweetness. 
 And Dante moves his lines along 
 
 In grandeur and completeness. 
 
 Through Auburn's bawthorn lanes I glide 
 
 In Goldsmith's famous village. 
 And grieve to see man's wealth and pride 
 
 Deprive the land of tillage ; 
 At Southey's waterfall I stay. 
 
 To hear its ceaseless plashing, 
 Its grand effect of foam and spray. 
 
 That down Lodore comes dashing. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 39'J 
 
 Here's Longfellow, my charming friend, 
 
 The Brownings both beside him. 
 And with sad Poe a time I spend. 
 
 Although some men deride him ; 
 Gray's niasterpiece I often read, 
 
 And Father Front is glorious, 
 Tom Hood I clutch with miser's greed, 
 
 And laugh with Swift uproarious. 
 
 I've John G. Saxe, morocco bound, 
 
 With Myles and Whitcomb Riley, 
 And Whittier 'mongst my guests is found. 
 
 With Shelley, Holmes and Smiley, 
 Jean Ingelow, and Eliza Cook, 
 
 Leigh Hunt, Bret Harte and Halleck ; 
 By Tennyson's clear, laughing brook 
 
 I often love to frolic. 
 
 Here's Shakespeare, king of earthly kings, 
 
 And Cowper, who so grave is ; 
 And Lowell, who so sweetly sings. 
 
 And noble Thomas Davis. 
 With Thackeray, and bouillabaisse, 
 
 We brim a glass to Terre ; 
 And Kipling can my wrinkled face 
 
 Sufifuse with smiling merry. 
 
 I've Praed, a rhyme-creating chap. 
 
 And Milton, who sublime is ; 
 To Meredith I touch my cap. 
 
 And Mangan, which no crime is ; 
 
100 SKANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 
 
 And ''Deacon," — dear old "Deacon!" — you 
 
 And Mickey Free, together, 
 Are cherished with a feehng true, 
 
 Tho' told in rhyming blether. 
 
 I've scores I cannot classify 
 
 I sit with late and early, 
 But can't intrude ill-naturedly 
 
 Upon your space, dear Charley. 
 They're brilliant lights of genius, all ; 
 
 They'll live adown the ages ; 
 No shadows on their fame can fall, 
 
 Nor dim become their pages. 
 
 OUTWARD BOUND AGAIN. 
 
 Once more our old Brotherhood ship 
 
 Goes seaward triumphant. God bless her. 
 Her anchors are hanging a-trip. 
 
 The seas just begin to caress her. 
 Her officers yet in command. 
 
 That conned her through all sorts of danger, 
 Her course isn't far from the land. 
 
 Her keel to the same is no stranger. 
 
 Great Jove ! how delighted she rides ! 
 
 How grand to an old-time observer ! 
 So buoyantly breasting the tides, 
 
 O'er seas where no breezes can swerve her 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 401 
 
 To show but the shghtest lee drift 
 From where she securely is charted ; 
 
 No matter how much the winds shift, 
 
 She'll not from her landmarks be parted. 
 
 Her Admiral paces the deck 
 
 In all sorts of fair or foul weather, 
 To guard her from tempest or wreck. 
 
 Or drifting too closely together 
 To other trim ships close aboard. 
 
 Which cruise within hail in the offing. 
 With all sorts of friendliness stored, 
 
 And colors of partnership doffing. 
 
 Two years on this voyage she'll be, 
 
 From Norfolk's hospitable bowers. 
 Until she returns from the sea, 
 
 To anchor mid billows of flowers. 
 Near Nature's most ravishing shores, 
 
 Where friendship and pleasure are blended, 
 And citizens' wide-open doors 
 
 Are waiting her voyage to be ended. 
 
 Dear Kelley, your eloquent tongue 
 
 Has captured us pilgrims by dozens. 
 We've songs full of praise yet unsung 
 
 For boys on the coast, and for cousins. 
 Say, Dick, what a glorious day 
 
 We spent on Virginia's waters, 
 When sailing o'er Chesapeake Bay, 
 
 With mothers, wives, sisters and daughters | 
 
402 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 If Paradise equals such joys, 
 
 I'll pray that my sins be forgiven, 
 So, after my death, with the boys 
 
 And the girls I can cruise around heaven, 
 On board of some gallant ^'Louise" 
 
 As trim as the good ship that bore us 
 That day over Southern seas, 
 
 To scenes full of rapture before us. 
 
 COAL DUST AND HEALTH. 
 
 When one's muscles are strained to their fullest 
 extent 
 By many long hours he's on duty, 
 When one's back is all aching, and over is bent, 
 
 Sure a chap cannot pose as a beauty ; 
 When one's face is smeared thickly with black- 
 strap and coal, 
 And he looks most repulsively frightful, 
 Don't you fool yourself thinking he'll soon fill a 
 hole, 
 For his appetite's really delightful. 
 
 With a piece of black waste he'll wipe fingers and 
 thumb. 
 And the bucket he'll dive in with vigor. 
 To snatch out a ham sandwich that soon he'll 
 make hum 
 Down his throat, without thought of his figure ; 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 403 
 
 He's an appetite sharp as a Shantytown cat, 
 And he cares jiot for stomach or Hver, 
 
 With the coal dust and grub he keeps heahhy and 
 fat, 
 And he sings songs of praise to the Giver. 
 
 Many proud milHonaires, with their coffers of 
 wealth, 
 I am certain would gladly change places, 
 And the gods they would thank for the strength 
 and the health 
 Of the lads w^ith the tawny-smoked faces ; 
 And the stomachs to stand the ham sandwiches, 
 smeared 
 With a little good mustard, while riding 
 On a level, when high up the quadrant she's 
 geared, 
 Or when waiting a meet on the siding. 
 
 THE ENGINEER AND THE FIREMAN. 
 
 A loyal pair together. 
 
 As gentle as young doves, 
 With hearts as light as feather, 
 
 Or birds in leafy groves. 
 They've naught to do but squander 
 
 The rosy hours away 
 Or on grand scenes to ponder 
 
 From dawn till close of day. 
 
404 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 The grangers in the meadows, 
 
 Or yokels at the plows, 
 Just merely see their shadows — 
 
 But not their beaded brows. 
 They cast begrudging glances 
 
 From furrow and from mead. 
 As on the train advances, 
 
 At sometimes dubious speed. 
 
 They can indulge in dreaming 
 
 Of hammock 'neath the trees. 
 Or with their sweethearts scheming, 
 
 Fanned by a spicy breeze ; 
 Or how to spend the money 
 
 The pay car brings along — 
 Such brain work keeps them funny — 
 
 And fills the cabs with song. 
 
 Official smiles await them 
 
 For losing precious time ; 
 No caustic tongues berate them, 
 
 Or on nerve-centers chime; 
 They need not give excuses 
 
 For mishaps of the rail. 
 Besides, they'll find abuses 
 
 Corrected without fail. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE'S POEMS 405 
 
 Oh, weary loads of trouble 
 
 Concealed in anguished hearts ! 
 Oh, stalls and hills to double, 
 
 Bad stops and slipping starts! 
 Oh, flues that leak like fountains, 
 
 And crown-sheets coming down. 
 And grades as steep as mountains 
 
 Between them and the town ! 
 
 Oh, thumping rods and brasses! 
 
 Oh, blowing valves and rings! 
 Oh, poor o'er-loaded asses. 
 
 Whom people fancy kings. 
 What obstacles beset you 
 
 Most every mile you make, 
 To fume and freely fret you. 
 
 Until your heart-strings break ! 
 
 AN ECHO FROM WHITEFISH BAY. 
 
 I have been with the crowd at Milwaukee, 
 I returned, like a countrified gawky. 
 
 From that mem'rable trip. 
 
 With a bad dose of grippe, 
 And a tongue furr'd, much swollen, and balky. 
 
406 shandV maguire's poems 
 
 My physician he calls it bronchitis. 
 
 How the Lord sends such ailments to smite us ! 
 
 Every laugh we enjoy 
 
 Has a load of alloy 
 That is certain to painfully bite us. 
 
 One fine morning, 'mid sunshine and flowers, 
 Ofif we started for cool shady bowers, 
 
 Ninety-two was the mark. 
 
 But before it grew dark 
 A cold wave changed our sweets into sours. 
 
 It was then my teeth chattered together, 
 And I sang songs in praise of the weather ; 
 
 I had plenty of chums- 
 
 Who had none in their gums, 
 Who wore raiment as light as a feather. 
 
 My two eyes now are sightless from coughing, 
 And my hat to my Maker I'm doffing; 
 
 I've a long string of ills. 
 
 Can't be purged out by pills, 
 Spread o'er years I've been doubting and scoffing. 
 
 I expect to pull through, — Heaven grant it ! 
 Send me back that good health often vaunted, 
 
 And I'll not be so frisk, 
 
 My poor body to risk. 
 In a clime where such ailments are planted. 
 
 m 
 
SHANDY MAGUIKE's POEMS 407 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 TO THE G. I. A. 
 
 Dear ladies fair, two years have passed 
 
 Since off we sailed together, 
 With colors floating from each mast, 
 
 To sea in pleasant weather ; 
 The skies were bright, the waters blue, 
 
 The good ship staunch that bore us, 
 A gallant and a willing crew 
 
 And smiling hope before us. 
 
 No sooner were the harbor lights 
 
 And landmarks left behind us, 
 Than to the main went "Equal Rights," 
 
 The flag 'neath which you find us ; 
 We carried it from dear St. Paul, 
 
 And always kept it floating 
 In rain or shine, in calm or squall, 
 
 In rough or placid boating. 
 
 We touched at many pleasant isles, 
 
 Where kindly friends did greet us, 
 With glowing hearts and sunny smiles 
 
 And open arms to meet us ; 
 But scarcely were our moorings made 
 
 Than came again the parting, 
 Their kindness on our feelings played, 
 
 And sent the tear-drops starting. 
 
40^ 
 
 SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 We never sailed for seas unknown, 
 
 Inviting- certain danger, 
 In frigid or in torrid zone 
 
 Our ship has been a stranger ; 
 A middle course we k^pt along 
 
 Where prudence did remind us 
 We'd speed our way, and free from wrong. 
 
 Return to those behind us. 
 
 Obedience to established rules 
 
 Implicitly we've rendered ; 
 No lore of inexperienced schools 
 
 To any have we tendered. 
 Our charts have always been our guide, 
 
 We sought no deviation. 
 Though winds and oft an adverse tide 
 
 Made tedious navigation. 
 
 The ''G. I. A." is homeward bound. 
 
 The harbor she is nearing. 
 Her colors float, she's safe and sound, 
 
 For Ottawa we're steering, 
 To give you a complete report, 
 
 From competent recorders. 
 In full detail, of every sort, 
 
 Since given sailing orders. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 409 
 
 OUR 'OLD GLORY." 
 
 Let the flag of our Union be flaunted 
 
 Aloft in the breezes that blow ; 
 Let us all, boys, salute it undaunted, 
 
 Without any fear of a foe. 
 We move in the vanguard of labor. 
 
 Enrolled for the good we can do ; 
 Each one recognizing his neighbor, 
 
 And all . federated and true. 
 
 No line of exclusion's permitted 
 
 To keep us one instant apart, 
 Each man in the place v/here he's fitted 
 
 We greet from the depths of the heart ; 
 If a punch, or a brake, or a lever, 
 
 Retains him on duty, what then? 
 The tools which he works with shall never 
 
 Be thought of to rate him 'mongst men. 
 
 In days now gone by we were foolish. 
 
 And thought we could go it alone ; 
 So, while wc were stubborn and mulish. 
 
 We often chewed hard on a bone ; 
 But now, since united together. 
 
 The strong nobly aiding the weak, 
 My comrades, without any blether, 
 
 We sometim.es get porterhouse steak. 
 
 Bethink you one moment, my brother. 
 Of favors our Order has won. 
 
 Esteemed ones, and somehow or other, 
 We seldom have fired off a gun. 
 
410 SHANDY MAGUIRE's POEMS 
 
 Conservative acts and attention 
 To duty have gained us a name, 
 
 Which we hold without apprehension 
 Of tarnishing ever our fame. 
 
 In block-tossing days long departed, 
 
 I've wondered when firemen could stand 
 Up erect, self-possessed, and brave-hearted, 
 
 In union all over the land ; 
 Down deep in the depths of oppression 
 
 I groveled too often, alas ! 
 Rebuked for the slightest transgression. 
 
 And roasted from polishing brass. 
 
 I prayed for relief, 'twas unheaded; 
 
 I groaned for redress from my woe. 
 The aches of my toil were exceeded 
 
 Too oft by a taskmaster's blow. 
 But once the old banner fraternal 
 
 Was flung to the breeze, a man blind 
 Could see that all torture infernal 
 
 Was pitched to the devil behind. 
 
 Conductors, telegraphers, brakemen. 
 
 And switchmen, and engineers, too. 
 Your hands now extend and come shake, 
 men, 
 
 With hands now extended to you. 
 Level down, level up, and united, 
 
 Each peer to the other are we, 
 With interests faithfully plighted 
 
 Together from center to sea. 
 
SHANDY MAGUIRe's POEMS 411 
 
 OUR LODGE OF SORROW. 
 
 'Tis our lodge of sorrow day, 
 And for all who've passed away 
 
 Here we mourn ; 
 They were faithful -and were good, 
 And our dear old Brotherhood 
 
 Did adorn. 
 
 Call the roster of the moons. 
 The Decembers and the Junes, 
 
 Till we hear 
 Who have passed the Great Divide, 
 And are now on t'other side — 
 
 Brothers dear 
 
 "Why's the charter draped in black?" 
 "A poor victim of the track 
 
 Met his doom. 
 Wife and little ones may weep, 
 But he sleeps the silent sleep 
 
 Of the tomb." 
 
 "There's another vacant chair!" 
 '*A poor comrade right from there 
 
 Went across. 
 He was to the order true. 
 And that chair when it we view, 
 Tells our loss." 
 
412 
 
 SHANDY MAGUIRE S POEMS 
 
 "Here's one more!" " Twas dire disease 
 Made his heart beats slowly cease, 
 
 Seeking bread ; 
 He's a widow's only joy, 
 Now she weeps her noble boy, 
 
 Who is dead." 
 
 Strike the bell with solemn sound, 
 Let us hope their souls have found 
 
 Peaceful rest, 
 In the realms of God above. 
 Crowned with everlasting love 
 
 'Mid the blest. 
 
 And when we, too, pass away, 
 Let some friends above us say 
 
 ''Here they lie. 
 Poor enfranchised galley slaves. 
 Whose souls passed beyond these graves 
 
 To the sky." 
 
APR 8 1907