ORIGINAL POETRX.

Southland Times, Issue 616, 9 January 1867, Page 3

ORIGINAL POETRX.

♦ THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE. A LOGICAL STQBY. Have you heard of tbe wonderful one-hoss shay That was built in such a logical way, I" ran a hundred years to a day, And then of a sudden, it — oh, but stay, I'll tell you what happened without delay, Soaring the Parson into fits, Frightening people out of their witsHave you heard of that, I say ? Seventeen hundred and fifty-five, Georgina Secundus was then alive — Snuffy old drone from the German hive ! That was the year when Lisbon-town Saw the earth open and gulph it down, And B^addock's army was done so brown, Left withont a scalp to its crown. Tt was on the terrible earthquake day, That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay. Now in building of chaises, I tell you what, There is always somewhere a weakest spot, Iri bub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, In pannel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill, — In screw, bolt, througbbar, lurking still, Where find it soon, you must and will — Above, or below, or within, or without, And thats the reason, beyond a doubt, Why chaise breaks down, but do not wear out, But the Deacon swore, (as Deacons do, With an " I dew yin," or an " I tell you") He would build one shay to beat the town, Or the Keuntry in all the Kentry rooun'; It should be built that it could'nt breakdown,; For, said the Deacon its mighty plain, That the weakest place must stand the strain, Or the way to fix it, as I maintain, Is only jest, to make that place as strong as tbe rest. So the Deacon inquired of the village folk, Where he could find the strongest oak, That couldn't be split, nor bent, nor broke, That was for spokes and floors and sills ; JTe sent for lance *vood to make the shills, The crossbars wero ash, from the straightest trees ; The pannels of wbitewood, that cuts like cheese, But last like iron for things like these ; The hubs of logs, from the settlers elm, Last of its sorb — they coulln't sell 'cm — Never an axe h<id seen their chips. And the wedges flew from between their lips, Their bunt en* ls furled like celery tips, and prop-iron, bolt and screw, Spring, tire, a*le. and linchpin too Steel of the finest bright and blue ; Thorough brace, bison-skin, thick and wide, Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide, Found in the pit when the tanner died ; That was the way he " put her through," Then ! said the Deacon, " noo shill dew !" Do ! I tell you, I rather guess Hhe was a wonder, and nothing less ! Colt's grew horse, beards turned grey, Deacon and Deaconess dropped away, Children and gi-and chiWren where were they? But there stood the stout ol 1 one hoss shay, As fresb as on Lisbon's earthquake day ! Eighteen hundred, it came and found The Deacon's masterpiece, strong and sound, Eighteen hundred increased by ten ; " H-ihsome Kerridge," they called it, then Eighteen hundred and twenty came, Running as usual, much the same, Thirty and forty at last arrived, And then came fifty and fifty-five. Little of all we value here, Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year, Without both feeling and looking queer ; In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth So far as I know, but a tree and truth ; This is a moral that runs at large, Take it, you're welcome — no extra charge. First of November — the earthquake day — There are traces of age in the one hoss shay, A general flavor of mild decay, But nothing local one may say, There couldn't be, for the Deacon,s art, Had ma c it so like in every part, That there wasn't a chance for one to start, For the wheels wore just as strong as the shills, And the floor was just as t. ong as the sills. And the pannels just as strong as the floor, And the whipletree neither less nor more, And the back cross-bar a3 strong as the fore, And spring and axle, and hub encore, And yet, as a whole it is past a aoubt, In another hour it will be worn out! First of November fifty-five, This morning the Parson takes a drive, Now, small boys, get out of the way ! Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay, Drawn by a rat tailed, ewe-necked bay, Hudd'up said the Parson. — Off went they. The Parson was working his Sunday text. — Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed, And what the" Moses was coming next. All at once the horse stood still, Close by the Meeting-house on the "hili. — First a shiver, and then a shrill, Then something like a spill, And tne Parson was sitting upon a rock, At half-past nine by the Meeting-house clock, Just the hour of the earthquake shock ! What do you think the Parson found. When he got up and stared around ? The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, As if it had been to the mill and ground ! You see, of course, if you're not a dunce, How it went to pieces all at once, All at once, and nothing first, Just as bubbles do when they burst. End of the wonderful one hoss-shay, Logic is logic. That's all I say. Invercargill, 26th Dec, 1867. Aho.

An Englishman in india was recently horrified at receiving a telegraphic despatch from England that his wife had been delivered cf five daughters. The message should have read a fine daughter. New York advices report the clearance of the Alpha and Jas. Guthrie, for Melbourne, with 171,000 gallons of kerosene, 305,8371 b. tobacco, lumber and sundries. The A. W. Stevens, for Otago, has ,27,080 gallons kerosene.