Fairbanks Morse

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Rt. 1, Box 328, Mission, Texas 78572

Under the ground and under the furrow, Where the roots come down and small things burrow,
The water runs its hidden course Sent by the giant, Fairbanks Morse.

On the level land by the Rio Grande Where the fields are wide and the palms grow tall,
And the fields grow corn and cotton and cane,
And growing things both great and small
Look to the empty skies for rain-
Look to the high dry skies in vain-
To their seeking roots, their thirsty roots,
Comes surging life from the water main,
Through subterranean watercourse.

Down in the ground where no man sees
The beat of the pulsing arteries
Is sent on its course
With mighty force
By the captive giant, Fairbanks Morse.

Here in the unkempt mesquite trees,
Where the grass is tall, and all around
A ragged jungle for lizards and bees,
A hut that's rude and square is found, Partly below the level of ground.

Here in his concrete cave held fast,
Upright and tall, where the light within
Is dim, but still in the gloom is seen
The towering giant, Fairbanks Morse,
Who sends the water on its course, Fed and nursed by a tending Djinn.

He stands as he stood in years gone past,
When his name in iron was newly cast,
And the engineers
In those growing years
Conceived the giant, Fairbanks Morse.

Built by men of our fathers' day,
Wrought with the pride of an engineer,
Built to last and built to stay,
Doing its work from year to year.

His makers name is Fairbanks Morse,
This giant of the water course,
Who strides the main and sends with force
The water to land both far and near,
To waving corn
Is the water borne

By the hidden giant, Fairbanks Morse.