Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE MIDDLEBURY, VERMOUNT, FAIR, by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE MIDDLEBURY, VERMOUNT, FAIR, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: When thirteen teams go past your door
Last Line: Wound up the merry fair.
Subject(s): Festivals; Middlebury College; Vermont; Fairs; Pageants


WHEN thirteen teams go past your door,
A-followed up by fourteen more
And one or two to spare;
All heading towards the County seat,
With something in behind to eat,
You know them teams are bound to meet
At Middlebury Fair.

Yes; that's the way the crowd convened
Before the world was gasolined,
And if you'd cast an eye
At noon behind the Floral Hall,
You'd seen 'em eating, one and all,
A-hunks of cheese that wasn't small
And pie that sure was pie.

The Monktoners appeared in flocks,
The Orwellites in solid blocks,
And every place you went,
You met right up with folks you knew,
"The world" was there and happy, too,
From rich old coots to Hare-lipped Lew
That wasn't wuth a cent.

By noon the litter scattered 'round
Would make you s'pose the solid ground
Was formed of peanut peel;
The pedlars talked no end of chaff,
The "grease-spot-man" made millions laugh,
The one-eyed, two-tailed Weybridge calf
Made lots of wimmen squeal.

The sight our fambly liked the best
Was what they called the "cattle test;"
It made your heart-throbs pause
To hear a great long whiplash crack,
And see them oxen take up slack,
And haul a mountain fort and back
And leave it where it was.

But when they rung the trotting gong
That crowd become a "surging throng,"
And bolted towards the track;
They left each cage and coop and pen,
They cut the Shropshire-Dorset men,
Good bye to blooded hog and hen—
You couldn't hold 'em back.

My! how they watched the different heats,
And stood a-top the buggy seats
And almost come to blows;
One feller climbed the quarter pole,
And once a deacon flashed a roll,
And Uncle had his lap-robe stole
Right underneath his nose.

But going home—Je-hosh-a-phat!
You never saw a race like that,
Each hoss and every mare
Picked up their everlasting heels,
And dust and sass and scraping wheels,
And numerous spill-outs, cuts and keels
Wound up the Merry Fair.





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