Laying a mile of track                               (Page 2)
In a day
The muscles in his arms
Puffing and swelling
To the size of large melons
Till they turned to stone
Yet not one to show fatigue
Even working alone
There in 1869
When they drove the spike
That connected
The East with the West
A thrilling legend
Partly fact
Partly fiction
Telling how
It was his sledge
That delivered the blow
That laid the iron rails to rest.                      
Then putting down his sledge               (Page 3)
And into the wetlands
Where the coolies live
Taking Zhau-My Lee’s daughter
From among the shacks
And soon they were singing
Songs about them
All the way down the tracks
Electra My-Lee was stunning
A superior being
In every way
With a paralyzing beauty
That lay
In her long straight hair
And eyes so black
They sparkled
Equally bright
From skin
As soft as rose petal  
But the color of mocha.                                
And when she spoke                                ( Page 4)
There came a voice
With such allure
It could make your heart
For taller than the other women
Her body was already
In full bloom
At age fourteen
Yet her smile
Only that of a child
Whom he saw every day
In the camps
Her being there
Giving him added strength
Extra courage
To fashion the track
Sleek and black
Over the prairie,
Across the berms,
And through the mountains.                       
While at night                                            (Page 5)
She visited
In his dreams,
Soon to be real,
Wiping the red dust
Of the canyon floor
From his feet
With care
And washing
The sweat
From his yellow hair
Which her father
Zhau-My Lee
Did surely disdain
So unlike the men
Of her ancestry
For whom
She had been trained
To obey
And surrender
Her slender form                                        (Page 6)
To his powerful chest
He would gently
Holding the only soul
He could ever comprehend
As one
Who surely
Belonged to him
Tucking her delicate head
Beside his chin
Telling her
She had nothing to fear,
“Shuuusssh now,
No crying.”
As she whispered
His name
So softly
Against his ear,
“O’Ryan . . . "                                                       
O’Ryan Gnarr Roberts:                                     ( Page 1)
One tough man
One not to mess with
When he took a stand---
A message flowing so forcefully
From his fierce blue eyes---
Was big-boned, long-limbed
With thick yellow hair
Surrounding his head that way
In spite of his Viking crudeness
Making him look wise
And proffering
A wonderful tale:
His hands so wide and powerful
Able to hold a sledge
And drive a spike
With either equally well
Sending more than one man
With a single blow
Straight to Hell.                                                  
Toishan: A Ballad of the Gum
Men and Women Who
Built the American Railroads
Literary Masters, Inc.
Publicists for Short Stories, Books, Poems and Songs
Long Island, New York 11971
Book One: "In Words
and Dreams and Song"