Sallie rode the Crouch line from Rapid
to Dark Canyon.
The seats were hard, the engine
chugged,
Ben made a strange companion.
He was her dog and by her side
he stayed throughout the trip,
but when she died, he'd ride each day
and n'er let out a yip.
Now Sallie was a real bright gal, she
worked for Lawyer Mizer
a listening each day to client problems
Sallie grew the wiser
She learned about the crimes and such,
mistakes that people made
so she lived what seemed a nun's life
and never really strayed.
Her garden bloomed next to the creek,
the water pure and clear
her wee small house with surrounding
deck and garden ever dear.
Sallie rode the Crouch line from Rapid to Dark Canyon.
The seats were hard, the engine chugged,
Ben made a strange companion.
He was her dog and by her side
he stayed throughout the trip,
but when she died, he'd ride each day
and n'er let out a yip.
Each day at noon just down the block in
the old Black Hills Cafe
Sittin' alone at a corner table, Sallie
lunched this way
a piece of bread, a bowl of soup and
tea to wash it down
then back to work above the bank, this
was Sallie Brown.
Not a minute too late and always prompt
Sallie at the typer,
Puttin' lawyer's words in rows so neat
upon the cotton paper.
Sallie rode the Crouch line from Rapid to Dark Canyon.
The seats were hard, the engine chugged,
Ben made a strange companion.
He was her dog and by her side
he stayed throughout the trip,
but when she died, he'd ride each day
and n'er let out a yip.
The years went by, each day seemed long
but Sallie n'er complained
and one day after work, her foot
stepped wrong, her ankle badly sprained
upon the curb at 7th and
main she sat there cryin' lightly
when all at once a milk white pup to
her side plopped down quite spritely.
So she waited a while and no one came a
lookin' for the pup
he looked so cute, big paws and such,
Sallie just picked him up.
Sallie rode the Crouch line from Rapid to Dark Canyon.
The seats were hard, the engine chugged,
Ben made a strange companion.
He was her dog and by her side
he stayed throughout the trip,
but when she died, he'd ride each day
and n'er let out a yip.
Over to the station where the Crouch
line came, Sallie with her pup in tow.
They waited and waited for the engine
to come while her heart began to glow.
“This little dog,” she thought,
“has found me just in time,”
“I was lonely and lost, my days were
the same, and me just in my prime.
“So, little pup, it's just you and
me, I think I'll call you Ben.”
And up to the canyon the little train
chugged where home was up till then.
Sallie rode the Crouch line from Rapid to Dark Canyon.
The seats were hard, the engine chugged,
Ben made a strange companion.
He was her dog and by her side
he stayed throughout the trip,
but when she died, he'd ride each day
and n'er let out a yip.
Raising rabbits, chickens, ducks and
such, Ben and Sallie ate like kings,
She worked all day with him beside to
supplement life with other things.
The lawyer paid a little more than most
in that Black Hills day
his clients were the cream of this
distant town and all would fully pay.
One day, a sculptor came to visit
about a mountain large
Sallie 'ud chat with the wife 'bout
dogs drinkin' tea from cups so large.
Sallie rode the Crouch line from Rapid to Dark Canyon.
The seats were hard, the engine chugged,
Ben made a strange companion.
He was her dog and by her side
he stayed throughout the trip,
but when she died, he'd ride each day
and n'er let out a yip.
For 50 years her fingers flew across
the typewriter keys
the sadness came when her beloved dogs
would pass next to her knees.
All tolled there were 8 white dogs each
with the name of Ben
out there in the garden with rows so
straight seven buried now and then
Then one day some years beyond a
neighbor called to check
upon old Sallie age 92 her body dead
a-layin' upon the deck.
Sallie rode the Crouch line from Rapid to Dark Canyon.
The seats were hard, the engine chugged,
Ben made a strange companion.
He was her dog and by her side
he stayed throughout the trip,
but when she died, he'd ride each day
and n'er let out a yip.
Copyright ©
2013 by Barry G. Wick
Know a musician looking for words? This is an odd poem for me to write...but it might fit some musician's tune.
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