Classic Poem

The morning sun in splendor shone
On the mellow park of the Yellowstone.
The President at the break of day
Had packed his duds and moved away.
A brave Shoshone chief came out
With his willow pole to fish for trout.
It was half-past six when he cast his line,
And he kept on fishing till half-past nine;
And then he baited his hook anew
And patiently fished until half-past two—
The meanwhile swearing a powerful sight
For fishing all day with nary a bite.
And he swore and fished, and fished and swore
Till his Elgin watch tolled half-past four;
When a big, fat trout came swimming by
And winked at the chief with his cold, sad eye.
“And do you reckon, you pagan soul,
You can catch us trout with a willow pole?
The President taught us manners while
He fished for us in the latest style.
You 've no idea how proud we feel
To be jerked ashore with a Frankfort reel!”

The red man gathered his dinner-pail
And started home by the shortest trail,
And he told his faithful squaw he guess'd
They 'd better move still farther west,
Where presidents did n't come fooling about,
Turning the heads of the giddy trout.