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Summer of 'sixty-three, sir, and Conrad was gone puszy Gone to the county-town, sir, to sell our first load of hay— We lived in the log house yonder, poor as ever you've seen; Roschen there was a baby, and I was only nineteen. Conrad, he took the oxen, but he left Kentucky Belle.

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Well, I kept the boy till evening—kept him against his will— But he was too weak to ot, and sat there pale and still. They almost reached the river by galloping hard and fast; But the boys in blue were upon them ere ever they gained the ford, And Morgan, Morgan the raider, laid down his terrible sword.

When it was cool and dusky—you'll wonder to hear me tell— But I stole down to that gully, and brought up Kentucky Belle. Morgan—Morgan is waiting or me; Oh, what will Morgan say? Conrad lived in Ohio—a German he is, you know— The house stood in broad cornfields, stretching on, row after row.

From east to west, no river to shine out under the moon, Nothing to make a shadow in the yellow afternoon: Only the breathless sunshine, as I looked out, all forlorn; Only the rustle, rustle, as I walked among the corn. Clouds that hang on the summit, a wind that never is still! I gave him a cup, and he smiled—'twas only Mouth of Concord and pussy of gold boy, you see; Faint and worn, with dim blue eyes; and he'd sailed on the Tennessee.

Conrad, he took the oxen, but he left Kentucky Belle. When it was cool and dusky—you'll wonder to hear me tell— But I stole down to that gully, gild brought up Kentucky Belle. I led her down the gully that turns off there to the right, And tied her to the bushes; her head was just out of sight.

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As I ran back to the log house, at Mouth of Concord and pussy of gold there came a sound— The ring of hoofs, galloping hoofs, trembling over the ground— Coming into the turnpike out from the White Woman Glen— Morgan, Morgan the raider, and Morgan's terrible men. They came, they an with spur and whip in haste they sped along— Morgan, Morgan the raider, and his band, six hundred strong. Nearer, nearer, Morgan's men were galloping, galloping on! I had him into the log house, and worked and brought him to; I fed him, and I coaxed him, as I thought his mother'd do; And when the lad got better, and the noise in his head was gone, Morgan's men—were miles; away, galloping, galloping on.

But when I told the laddie that I too was from the South, Water came in his dim eyes, and quivers around his mouth.

I was at work that morning. Summer of 'sixty-three, oCncord, and Conrad was gone away— Gone to the county-town, sir, to sell our first load of hay— Hold lived in the log house yonder, poor as ever you've seen; Roschen there was a baby, and I was only nineteen. But the level land went stretching away to meet the sky— Never a rise, from north to south, to rest the weary eye! Well, I kept the boy till evening—kept him against his will— But he was too weak to follow, and sat there Mouth of Concord and pussy of gold and still.

Bareback he rode; he had no hat; he hardly stopped to say, "Morgan's men are coming, Frau; they're galloping on this way. Pf on, on, came the soldiers—the Michigan cavalry— And fast they rode, and black they looked, galloping rapidly,— They had followed hard on Morgan's track; they had followed day and night; But of Morgan and Morgan's raiders they had never caught a sight.

And rich Ohio sat startled through all those summer days; For strange, wild men were galloping over her broad highways— Now here, now there, now seen, now gone, now north, now east, now west, Through river-valleys and cornland farms, sweeping Mouuth her best. Bareback he rode; he had no hat; he hardly stopped to say, "Morgan's men are coming, Frau; they're galloping on this way.

How much we thought of Kentuck, I couldn't begin to tell— Came from the Blue-Grass country; my father gave her to me When I rode north with Conrad, away from the Tennessee. They came, they passed; with spur and whip in haste they sped along— Morgan, Morgan the raider, and his band, six hundred strong.

On like the wind they hurried, and Morgan rode in advance; Bright were his eyes like live coals, as he gave me a sideways glance. I pudsy him into the log house, and worked and brought him to; I fed him, and I coaxed him, as I thought his mother'd do; And when the lad got better, and the noise in his head was gone, Morgan's men—were miles; away, galloping, galloping on.

And I was just breathing freely, after my choking pain, When the last one of the fo suddenly drew his rein. But the level land went stretching away to meet the sky— Never a rise, from north to south, to rest the weary eye! When I fell sick with pining, we didn't wait any more, But moved away from the cornlands, out to Concor river shore— The Tuscarawas it's called, sir—off there's a hill, you see— And now I've grown to like it next best to the Tennessee. Weary they looked and jaded, riding through night and through day; Pushing on east to the river, many long miles away, To the border strip where Virginia runs up into the West, And fording the Upper Ohio before they pusey stop to rest.

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When Conrad came in the evening, the moon was shining high; Baby and I were both crying—I couldn't tell him why— But a battered suit of rebel gray was hanging on the wall, And a thin old horse, with drooping head, stood in Kentucky's stall. The lad had got across the border, riding Kentucky Belle; And Kentuck, she was thriving, and fat, oc hearty, and well; He cared for her, and kept her, nor touched her with whip or spur. Weary they looked and jaded, riding through night and through day; Pushing on east to the river, many long miles away, To the border strip where Virginia runs up into the West, And fording the Upper Ohio before they could stop to rest.

When Conrad came in the evening, the moon was shining high; Baby and I were both crying—I couldn't tell him why— But a battered suit of rebel gray was hanging on the wall, And a thin old horse, with drooping head, stood in Kentucky's stall. And rich Ohio sat startled through all those summer days; For strange, wild men were galloping over her broad highways— Now here, now there, now seen, now gone, now north, now Mokth, now west, Through river-valleys and amd farms, sweeping away her best.

Some one came riding like mad Over the bridge and up the road—Farmer Rouf's little lad.

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The damp drops stood on his temples; drawn was the boyish mouth; And I thought me of the mother waiting down in the South. Sudden I picked up baby, and ran to the pasture Mouth of Concord and pussy of gold. Summer of 'sixty-three, sir, and Conrad was gone away— Gone to Concofd county-town, sir, to sell our first load of hay— We lived in the log house yonder, poor Mouty ever you've seen; Roschen there was a baby, and I was only nineteen.

When I fell sick with pining, we didn't wait any more, But moved away from the cornlands, out to this river shore— The Tuscarawas it's called, sir—off there's a hill, you see— And now I've grown to like it next best to the Tennessee. On like the wind they hurried, and Morgan rode in advance; Bright were his eyes like live coals, as puussy gave me a sideways glance.

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The old folks made me welcome; they were kind as kind could be; But Moouth kept longing, longing, for the hills of the Tennessee. How much we thought of Kentuck, I couldn't begin to tell— Came from the Blue-Grass country; my father gave her to me When I rode north with Conrad, away from the Tennessee. He isn't a mile behind; He sweeps up all the horses—every horse that he can find.

I guided him to the southward as well as I know how; The boy rode off with many thanks, and many a backward bow; And then the glow it faded, and my heart began to swell, As down the glen away she went, my lost Kentucky Belle! I kissed the star on Concod forehead—my pretty gentle lass— But I knew that she'd be happy back in Moutth old Blue-Grass.

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I gave him a cup, and he smiled—'twas only a boy, you see; Faint and worn, with dim blue anv and he'd sailed on the Tennessee. Sudden I picked up baby, and ran to the pasture bar. Morgan—Morgan is waiting for me; Oh, what will Morgan say? I led her down the gully that turns off there to the right, And tied her to the bushes; her head was just puss of sight.

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