Page:All Over Oregon and Washington.djvu/89

Rh Of the winding Wallametta, Which I sing—and say it surely As the jingling Juniata Sounds as well; but 'tis unpretty, Poets of the sunset sea-rim Flying off to Acropolis— Very absurd it is, and silly— While the glassy Umatilla, And the classic Longus Thomas, And the grassy Tuda-Willa, All do flash and flow before us.

Well, my hero Kamiakin Was in love; you know such folly Must go in, or something's lacking In all great, good rhymes emetic. Now, she dwelt in Walla Walla; But her Ma was awful stuck up; And her pious Dad, ascetic, 'Gainst our hero got his back up; And he swore on stacks of bibles, Higher than the hay you stack up, He would sue for breeches, libels; He would sue him, shoot him, boot him— That, in fact, he didn't suit him— Didn't vote the proper ticket.

Now it cost him like the nation Going from the land of cider (You know how these Navigation Fellows charge a horse and rider); And, though he was law-abiding, To be treated thus about her He declared was rather binding, And that he wouldn't go without her. So he strode a cayuse charger With white eyes, also white as Foam of creamy, dreamy lager From her nostrils to her caudle; With a woolly sheepskin folding Back behind his jockey saddle, Where the girl could ride by holding.