Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The Line FenceEdwin Ford Piper
I
In a hole by a willow tree;
And that is how we planted him
Where the line fence ought to be.
An’ I at the livery;
An’ I only had two jolts of gin
An’ a little rye in me
When up comes this Hyannis Hal,
An’ he wouldn’t drink with me.
He slobbered, an’ wagged his chin;
An’ he swore that he would wade in the gore
Of us an’ all our kin!
“Roll up your pants, Hyannis,
An’ come a-steppin’ in!”
An’ Bill at the town marshal,
An’ we was joggin’ pleasantly
Along the Wolf Creek trail;
An’ at Warbonnet Springs rides out
This same Hyannis Hal.
She’s on my land five rod!”
“I put her there, an’ there she stays,
If I got to wade in blood!
I’ll wade in blood to my chin!”
I answered back like a feller does
On a couple of jolts of gin.
It seemed like there was too much talk;
So the doin’s, they begin.
In a hole by a willow tree;
And that was how we planted him
Where the line fence ought to be.