The ox-team and the
Stood face to face on the long red road,
The long red road was
At the turn of the hill,
And below was the sun-dancing
Afoam over the rocks.
The mild-mannered beasts stood par, chewing their cud.
The stubble-bearded man from the mountains,
Rustier than his wagon,
Unmoving eyed the proud chauffeur.
The little ragged girl,
With sun-bleached hair,
Sitting on a ahrd, yellow-powdrey bag,
Looked across at the smart motor hats of the ladies,
And their chiffon
That the light breeze fingered.
The proud chauffeur blew his horn,
But nothing moved-Except the foaming, sun-dancing river down below.
Then he jerked his head,
And turned the wheel,
And slowly, carefully,
The automobile moved back over the long red road.
And the mild-mannered beasts lifted their feet,
And the stubble-bearded man flipped his rein,
Ad the ragged little girl looked ahead up the hill,
And the ox-team lumbered and limped over the long red road.
