Sam Peasley's Gold - Poem by Connie Yost
On the southern-most side of Padderson Pond
Where fragrant white pond lilies grow,
The Tannahill clan, for fishing and fun,
Moor their one-oared, paint-less old boat!
Wild flowers were there in the middle of things,
When Sam launched his shiny new boat.
To a heavy tin box he tied a thin string
And corked an old bottle to float.
As he lowered the box, with side-glancing haste,
He felt the snap of the string!
He said something caustic, disbelief on his face,
And gave the old bottle a fling!
Sam Peasley was broke and he didn't stay long,
He hung around freight train yards,
That evening at dusk Sam Peasley was gone,
With naught but a new deck of cards!
Around the small town the story is known,
How Sam traveled out to the West.
He was back for two days, then he was gone.
The rest is anyone's guess!
One hundred odd years patiently pass,
When, there in the lily pads,
Lightly amusing the Tannahill lads,
Is a muddy old bottle of glass.
Uncorking, they find a hand written note,
'18 and 49. S. Peasly. minor,
Here marks the spot', he wrote,
Sam was a real Forty-niner!
The Tannahill boys try hard to stay calm,
They see a real mystery unfold.
Then the one who uncorked, sees in his palm,
One tiny nugget of gold!
Now the three boys go swimming each night,
The second the chores are done!
They snorkel and dive till there's no more light,
As they'll do till their quest is won!
Mr. Tannahill's sons keep diving and diving,
They now have a brand new boat!
Their mounting excitement is thriving and thriving,
Since they uncovered that old bottle float!
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