[Frank Kane, who was one of the earliest settlers amid the gumbo hills of Lone Tree precinct. Dawes county, after a nine years’ siege, quit the conflict and went to New Castle, Wyoming. Before departing he left a gem of gumbo poetry on my desk, which with a little polishing shines thus :—]

I's sorry for leavin’ Father Brophy’s bell,
Sorry for leavin’ McGannon's well,
Sorry for leavin’ Whitney town.—
Frank Currie, Brumbaugh an’ the people all roun’.

Farewell to the place where I’ve talked and raved,
Farewell to the widow an’ the soldier’s grave,
Farewell to the childher that plays on the mud floor,
Farewell to the tramp that comes up to the door,
Farewell to the place where I made me abode,
Where many’s the night I've been lost in the road.

It is well for the people who knows how to love,
Who believes in the future and meetin’ above.
Farewell to the hills I may never more see.
Farewell, forever, to the flats of Lone Tree.


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