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Title: Year 2016 In Chihuahua
Author: W. E. Christian [
More Titles by Christian]
Through the mesquite in old Chihuahua,
Aimlessly one day I strode,
Till I chanced upon a figure
Standing silent in the road.
Such an odd, ungainly figure!
I stopped, then staggered back,
Thinking it an ancient spirit
That had wandered from its track.
A campaign hat was on his head,
With strap beneath his chin,
On his legs some battered leggins,
And his shoes were old and thin.
On his shoulder was a musket,
Red with the rust of years,
Like himself, the whole equipment,
Seemed to justify my fears.
"What masquerade is this"? said I,
Though my breath came quick and short,
Then he, from force of habit,
Brought his rifle to a port.
"Long years ago," he answered,
In a mild and patient tone,
"There was trouble in Chihuahua,
Where Villa used to roam.
"When I left the States for Mexico,
With the Regular Cavalry,
We numbered several thousand,
Young, healthy, strong and free.
All the others,--they are sleeping
On the hillside over there,
Far from home and loving kindred
And the native country dear.
"Perhaps twenty died from sickness,
Victims of the fever's rage,
Or amoebic dysentery,
All the rest,--from ripe old age!
I'm the last of all those thousands,
Through this place I still must roam,
Waiting for expected orders--
Welcome orders to go HOME."
[The end]
W. E. Christian's poem: Year 2016 In Chihuahua
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