Читать книгу The One Hoss Shay - Holmes Oliver Wendell - Страница 2

Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,

That was built in such a logical way

It ran a hundred years to a day,

And then, of a sudden, it – ah, but stay,

I’ll tell you what happened without delay,

Scaring the parson into fits,

Frightening people out of their wits, —

Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five,

Georgius Secundus was then alive, —

Snuffy old drone from the German hive;

That was the year when Lisbon-town

Saw the earth open and gulp her down,

And Braddock’s army was done so brown,

Left without a scalp to its crown.

It was on the terrible earthquake-day

That the Deacon finished the one-hoss-shay.

Now in building of chaises, I tell you what,

There is always somewhere a weakest spot, —

In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,

In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill,

In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace, – lurking still,

Find it somewhere you must and will, —

Above or below, or within or without, —

And that’s the reason, beyond a doubt,

A chaise breaks down, but doesn’t wear out.

But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do,

With an “I dew vum,” or an “I tell yeou,”)

He would build one shay to beat the taown

’n’ the keounty ’n’ all the kentry raoun’;

It should be so built that it couldn’ break daown!

– “Fur,” said the Deacon, “’t’s mighty plain

Thut the weakes’ place mus’ stan’ the strain;

’n’ the way t’ fix it, uz I maintain,

Is only jestT’ make that place uz strong uz the rest.”

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk

Where he could find the strongest oak,

That couldn’t be split nor bent nor broke, —

That was for spokes and floor and sills;

He sent for lancewood to make the thills;

The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees,

The panels of whitewood, that cuts like cheese,

But lasts like iron for things like these;

The hubs of logs from the “Settler’s ellum,” —

Last of its timber, – they couldn’t sell ’em,

Never an axe had seen their chips,

And the wedges flew from between their lip

Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;

Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,

Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,

Steel of the finest, bright and blue;

Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;

Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide

Found in the pit when the tanner died.

That was the way he “put her through.”