Charge of the Village Despot

by Sadie Nannen “The Bard of West Washington Street”
--Grandma Sadie’s Poems, 1947

A captain on his charger came,
adown the drifted street,
Intent upon his duty,
too great for him no feat;
No drift too deep, no blustery wind,
his dauntless heart dismay;
But courage of the deepest kind,
the metal steed displayed.

With roar and snort his gears he clashed---
His headlights bravely shone,
A lusty cry: “Excelsior!”
as he plowed grimly on
And children, ready now for school,
looked out of the open door
At trackless streets, then hopefully said,
“Give him five minutes more.”

Oh, foolish tree, who wilt not move,
as the wild steed draws near;
No bark will hide your tattered wound
For many a bitter year.
Oh fool, who let your rugged roots
Above the earth appear,
For cruel blade to cut and bruise
Before the spring is here.

And lawn that last year lustly grew
So thick, so green, so high
Now finds it sidewalk edges
With roots turned toward the sky.
The poor landowner who last year
Nurtured tenderly his sod,
Looks down upon the mangled growth
And lifts his prayers to God.

“Alas, alack, dear Lord above
Pray guard my lawn this year
And make it grow both green and thick
Till Bolles will mesh his gears.
When the first snow will start to fall,
With mingled fear and pain
I’ll listen for the monster who
Will tear it up again.”

At last when sap is running
Up the trees, (and not the street)
The people gaze and say those words
That I cannot repeat.
Forgetting that they had a path,
Thru all the trackless snow,
Under their breaths they mutter
Where the charger well may go.

But Captain Bolles says sadly,
“Yea they hate me, it is true,
But duty calls and like the U.S. Mail,
I simply must go thru.
And when they moan and curse me---
And simply won’t be still,
I withdraw into my fortress
At the foot of Poverty Hill.

“And yet when winds do loudly blow---
And snow is drifting high,
They’ll listen and sorta hope to hear
The monster going by.”
But now that spring is on the way
And winter’s song is sung
The iron steed we’ll hear no more
But cows will lose their young.