1871 - 1907
You never met a man who loved my town.
As I much as I did.
Coming here in ’90 by the train.
It nearly killed me, but I stayed on my knees.
I prayed and prayed I would not go mad.
For 15 years I played the organ.
In the magnificent church on Bailey Street.
I played the passions of Bach and the soothings of Handal.
And I served refreshments in the churchyard.
One night in Mid March
After services had concluded,
Rebecca walked into my life.
She coyly received my flirtatious wink
And a family of five was the magical result.
For twelve years I moved lumber by horse and reigns,
And drove the wagonload to the flowering homesteads.
I worked hard, prayed to God
And never forgot to kiss my wife goodbye.
I lived on the end of Olive Street.
Hidden by tall Elms,
Inside my house with the white shutters,
I brought two of my brood into this world
And I watched one leave it in the winter of ’99.
It was in that same room,
The one in the back by the myrtle tree,
That I too tasted death.
I had the cancer
And it was eating me like a cannibal unconverted.
And now I am dead and buried in Clark Cemetery.
And my living soul longs to spend just one more minute.
Just one more minute
As a dying man.
My soul is not dead.
My soul is not sad.
Let me sleep now.