The Short Legged Mule

I noticed one day . . . a ridin' this way
	a guy on a short legged mule
It might be I thought . . . the one we'd sought
	to teach in our ‘lil red school
Us miners wuz' poor . . .'bout a dozen or more
	and each had ‘bout three kids to teach
The guy said he'd teach . . . but also would preach
	their minds and our souls both he'd reach
He taught in the school . . . preached God's Golden Rule
	Commandments we soon learned to live
We soon built a church . . . out'a  cedar‘n  birch
	and  what little monies we'd give
That winter was tough . . . there  wern't quite enough
	of food in reserve to go ‘round
The trail was so steep . . . the darn snow so deep
	we couldn't get down to the town
But the preacher said pray . . . and God'd make a way
	like He done for Moses before
We blamed  jest ourselves for them empty shelves
	‘twarnt God's fault we didn' store more
Yet all thru that winter . . . each time that we'd enter
	the cellar was full to the brim
I know'd  we ‘uz blest . . . but some ‘a the rest
	didn' want to b'lieve it was Him
The snow finally thawed . . . big floods it drawed
	for weeks water tore up the ground
Then when it was thru . . . we set up the flue
	but strangely no gold could be found
‘Ol preacher said pray . . . and just the same way
	some said that the guy was a fool
And no one 'd thought . . . the help that we sought
	would come from a short legged mule
The mule had been tied . . . to a tree where  he tried
	to free himself   buckin' like hell
And finally he . . . just pulled down the tree
	 exposing the roots when it fell
I happened to look . . . and the first view took
	my breath near completely away
There in the ground . . . large nuggets I found
	gold all ‘round the roots lay
A Glory Hole - wow! The mule had somehow
	been used to fulfill all our prayers
We dug night and day . . .  and carried away
	‘bout five thousan' each as our shares
At church time next week we all come to seek
	the preacher to give ‘im his share
Not at church in prayer . . . nor the school house -not there
	he couldn't be found anywhere
A young boy  we asked said a stranger had passed
	by the school house . . . earlier that day
He waved a good by .  . . then into the sky
	on a short legged mule . . . rode away
Poem by Ron Baron

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