Dead In The Harness

Poor old Bill has pulled his last load

Over the dusty and rocky road.

Felt his last cut of the driver’s whip,

Made his last tiresome, stumbling trip.

For Bill lies dead on the great highway;

He died in the harness here today.

Faithful old Bill! brave up to the last;

Tugging away at the load so vast.

Pulling and straining the livelong day,

He now lies dead on the great highway.

He did his best, but the last straw broke,

And Bill lies freed from his earthly yoke.

Loved by the children who fed him sweets,

Bill was the favorite of the streets;

And oft could be seen with the noisy pack

Astride of his broad and honest back.

Noble and gentle and steady and slow,

Always ready to stand or go.

But Bill, poor Bill, in a lifeless heap,

Lies dead in his last long restful sleep.

Lies dead in the harness here today,

He died at work on the great highway.

All honor to him, a lesson to men,

A subject worthy the poet’s pen.

May 30, 1903