Jocko, Jocko, climb a pole, Jocko climb a tree, Jocko, Jocko, tip your cap, And make a bow to me. KENTUCKY BELLE. Summer of 'sixty-three, sir, and Conrad was gone away-- 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; How much we thought of Kentucky, 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 Tennessee. Conrad lived in Ohio--a German he is, you know-- The house stood in broad corn-fields, stretching on, row after row; The old folks made me welcome; they were kind as kind could be But I kept longing, longing, for the hills of Tennessee. O, for a sight of water, the shadowed slope of a hill! Clouds that hang on the summit, a wind that is never still But the level land went stretching away to meet the sky-- Never a rise, from north to south, to rest the weary eye! 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. When I fell sick with pining, we didn't wait any more, But moved away from the corn-lands 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. I was at work that morning. Some one came riding like mad Over the bridge and up the road--Farmer Rouf's little lad; Bareback he rode; he had no hat; he hardly stopped to say; "Morgan's men are coming, Frau; they're galloping on this way; "I'm sent to warn the neighbors. He isn't a mile behind; He sweeps up all the horses--every horse that he can find; Morgan, Morgan, the raider, and Morgan's terrible men, With bowie-knives and pistols, are galloping up the glen." The lad rode down the valley, and I stood still at the door; The baby laughed and prattled, playing with spools on the floor; Kentuck was out in the pasture; Conrad, my man, was gone; Nearer, nearer, Morgan's men were galloping, galloping on! Sudden I picked up the baby, and ran to the pasture-bar; "Kentuck!" I called; "Kentucky!" She knew me ever so far! 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. As I ran back to the log-house, at once 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.