Here's to you, old stage-driver,
Your race is almost run,
You've passed the relay station,
Your final trip is done;
The "choo-choo" cars have got you,
With honk-honk-honk and din;
Throw down your lines, old timer,
And watch the stage come in!
In the old days,
In the bold days,
In the gold days long ago,
When the miners sluiced the hillsides
For the placer's golden glow,
You played your part full well, sir,
When with bullion piled on high,
You drove your stage pell-mell, sir,
To land your charge or die.
Here's to you, old stage-driver,
We'll hear your shout no more,
Your stage with rust is eaten,
Beside the old Inn's door;
The auto-bus and steam car
Have cut your time in two;
Throw up your hands, old "stage-hoss,"
They've got the drop on you!
In the old days,
In the bold days,
In the gold days long ago,
When the golden streams unending
Gushed from hillsides bursting so,
How well you wrought we'll tell, Sir,
When with shotgun and a crew,
You drove your stage to — well, sir,
So here's a health to you.
LUCIEN M. LEWIS.
