FAMILY HISTORY: POETRY Collection written by Elsie Strawn ARMSTRONG
  
  File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by: Les Howard Strawn
  
  Copyright 2006.  All rights reserved.
  http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm
  http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/somerset/
  ________________________________________________
  
          CHAPTER FIFTH
  
  When we came upon the land
      That my father bought for me,
  Our aim was to a spring
      That three years before we see.
  
  And when the spring we found,
      I sat my child upon the ground
  And stepped down to the spring,
      And with my hand, I cleaned it round.
  
  I scraped away the leaves,
      And the pebbles looked so white,
  The water flowed so fast
      And looked so clear and bright.
  
  I spoke to my little son,
      As he sat upon the ground,
  And his face did seem to brighten
      As he threw the leaves around.
  
  I said, "My little son,
      You're glad to have got home;"
  But his father looked quite glum
      And said he wished he'd never come.
  
  "To stay in this wild woods
      I am sure will never do,
  And I never would have been here
      If it had not been for you."
  
  "Don't be so soon discouraged,
      The wood will disappear;
  Get some more good hands with you
      And the wood you soon can clear.
  
  "And I can help at that,
      I can help pick and burn the brush,
  And you can chop and grub,
      And we will go it with a rush".
  
  "We had better now go back,
      To where somebody's living,
  And not allow ourselves to be
      In the wilderness driven."
  
  "I never can go back,
      It would be such a shame,
  When we've spent our time and money,
      And I'd have to bear the blame".
  
  "I would rather go a thousand miles
      If we went toward the west,
  Than to go back three hundred
      Because I'd think it best."
  
  At length he went for boards
      And put us up a camp,
  And then it rained two weeks,
      And my things got wet and damp.
  
  And then he went to mill
      And I was left alone,
  The mill was forty miles,
      And in four days he did come home.
  
  The beech and sugar stood so thick,
      And the timber was so tall,
  The sun could hardly get a chance
      For to peep in at all.
  
  I went to work upon a beech,
      And I chopped it all around,
  And I chopped and chopped and chopped
      'Till it fell upon the ground.
  
  Then I could see the sun
      When the weather it was clear,
  And I carried out my bed and things
      To take the sun and air.
  
  And when my man came home
      He said, "Who did fell that tree?"
  But when he saw the stump
      He said, "It's plain enough to see."
  
  But as soon as he got home,
      The first thing that he said,
  Was, "I have bad news to tell you,
      Our fine gray mare is dead."
  
  "I had her shod in Zanesville,
      I saw she was not well;
  The roads were very slippery,
      I'd be sorry if she fell.
  
  "And when I got to Newark
      I was trying to come ahead,
  I saw she was very sick,
      And in her gears she fell dead.
  
  "Then I took her harness
      But did not rob her of her shoes,
  For them I paid two dollars,
      But with her, I, them would lose".
  
  "She was the fortune of a load,
      She was so strong and kind,
  And as good for to hold back,
      And the word would always mind".
  
  "And now we are broke up,
      For we have but one that's fit to ride,
  And when I was on her
      I did always feel some pride".
  
  "I would rather have lost two others
      Of the best horses I have,
  Because she was so fine
      And your father us her gave".
  
  And when I wrote to father
      I mentioned Nance is dead.
  He said, "You shall have another,
      You need not be afraid."
  
  "I am coming out this fall
      To visit with you all,
  I am sorry Nance is dead,
      But I'll bring one in her stead."
  
  When I was not thinking
      My father came one day,
  And brought a good young mare,
      And her color was iron gray.
  
  At length he cleared four acres
      With the help of three more hands,
  And fenced it on the north side
      With poles out off the land.
  
  The rest they fenced with brush;
      Campbell said to me, "Twill do,
  Now I am sure and certain
      Witch nor fairy can't get through."
  
  He furrowed too close,
      And put too much in a hill,
  And when the corn came up
      It looked too much like a drill.
  
  It stood so thick upon the ground
      There was but little did get sound,
  But there was lots of food,
      Such as horses and cattle need.
  
  Soon after we got there,
      An incident I'll tell
  Concerning neighbor Hughes,
      Who with his gun an Indian fell.
  
  Not far above our clearing
      He saw him on the creek,
  He leveled and took aim
      And dropped him very quick.
  
  Then he dragged him to the shore,
      But no grave for him, he dug,
  But covered him with logs and leaves,
      And hid him very snug.
  
  Then he took up his hatchet,
      His scalping knife and gun,
  And in a hollow log
      These accoutrements he run.
  
  As I was going to a neighbor's
      With my son upon my arm,
  I heard a horse come running,
      And it caused a slight alarm.
  
  I stepped out of the way
      Just as he passed me by,
  His hind feet broke the saddle off,
      And in the road it lies.
  
  Then I took up the saddle
      And carried it with my child,
  But I found it inconvenient
      Before I went a mile.
  
  Soon after I got there,
      He came upon the run,
  And said his horse took fright
      At the firing of his gun.
  
  And then it was the next year,
      The British war broke out,
  Then he went and got his gun and things
      And told it all about.
  
  He said he killed an Indian
      He killed all that he could find,
  Because they killed his parents
      It seemed to suit his mind.