I’ve been thinking a lot about Cincinnati lately, recalling the first glimpse…
Ruin’t by the rain and many articles missing or scattered
about the cabin, thus we find
our store of provisions on return,
and in despair curse
the savage and his band for their depredations,
what have so defiled
our settlements and camps.
We assemble a party, prepare to hunt til eve’n but
not any distance find the damn Jack, runaway
white servant called Sommers, drunk
our wool leggings, our coat, against
no great cold and torn it besides.
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