Stanzas, On Seeing The 'Huron' Locomotive Poem by Thomas Cowherd

The Iron Horse has reached at last Cayuga's heights so near;
Look out, ye men of Brantford, now, for soon he will be here!
He brings with him a weighty load, his way before him feels,
As slowly o'er the new-laid track he moves his ponderous wheels.

Mechanics, use your utmost skill, and ply each brawny arm,
Let sight of yon huge iron steed your very heart's-blood warm;
Nor let cold Winter's raging storms your progress now retard,
But quickly get the bridges built; nor doubt a rich reward.

Be steady, men! the hammers lift, send home the sturdy nails;
Make every fixture quite secure, and solid lay the rails;
'Tis done right well! and now, again, the Monster moves along,
But cautiously, for fear the work should not prove very strong.

He does resemble very much the mighty Elephant,
That let our new-made wooden bridge his courage sadly daunt;
Who, when he came to cross the stream which flows right through our
town,
Did fancy his great clumsy foot would break the fabric down.

So slowly moves this horse along, but soon his speed he'll quicken-
Nor care a straw though Winter's snow right in his track may thicken;
For when the works are finished well, he'll seem to snuff the breeze,
And fly at such a rapid rate as may his masters please.

Look out, ye men of Brantford, now! See, he has reached your doors;
He heaves and pants, he snorts and looks to sweat through all his
pores;
And yet he stands in harness trim, not cares a fig for rest,
But is quite ready still to move, and waits but your behest.

And now, above his whistle shrill, is heard a deafening noise-
The people all, in loud hurrahs, give vent to heartfelt joys;
The cannon roars, while all around is vigorous effort made
To make this Celebration throw all others in the shade!

Processions form, the banners wave; now mark those hardy Bands-
The Fire Brigade-who well deserve much honor at our hands;
For they in war-like deeds excel, yet not in bloody fight-
The battle with destroying fire, by day as well as night!

These form, with others in their rear, a very numerous host;
The Marshal gives command, and now each company takes its post;
The drums are beat, sweet music fills the ear with much delight,
And splendid Fireworks are prepared to grace the coming night.

O, ye who have the management of this most glorious fete,
My Muse would your attention crave, and earnestly entreat,
That you would not forget the poor, but give to them a share
Of all your choicest eatables, as much as you can spare.

And let them have a good supply of tea and coffee, too;
They well deserve as rich a treat as either I or you;
For do they not, with constant toil, such works as this complete?
Then welcome them unto the board, and bid them freely eat.

Now I will close my hasty rhyme, with earnest wish expressed,
That all our town would well behave to each and every guest;
Let all our conduct on that day be orderly and quiet,
And none lay out a single cent in drunkenness and riot.