**Trinidad** By A Bach. --- Where a village sits on a bed of coal, And the billowy hills around it roll; Where a crystal stream, fed with mountain snows, Down through the hear of this village flows; Where the cottonwoods stand by the river's side, And drink huge draughts from its limpid tide; Where the houses, ranged o'er the hillsides thick, Are built of those beautiful sun-dried brick; Where the hills are green and with cedars clad -- That's Trinidad Where the cattle range o'er the hills of green, And where herds of Mexican sheep are seen; Where the mountains around, with varied charms, Are graced with beautiful, fertile farms; Where a massive hill, with a brow unique, Is known far and wide as the Raton Peak; Where the pure Purgatorial waters flow, That are meant for Las Animas -- down below; And where over all falls the light mountain air, As clear, pure and sweet as the waters there; Where they patiently wait for the Narrow Gauge To take the place of the lumbering stage, And when it comes will be so glad -- That's Trinidad Where you see on the streets, and wherever you go, The sons and daughters of Mexico; Where American men have a Western air; Where they dress with but little taste and care; Where their eyes are bright, and they sharply trade, And have learned just how the dimes are made; Where the women are handsome, dress with taste, And with all womanly charms are graced; Where the girls, (tho', alas, few of them you'll see,) Are just as pretty as girls can be, And almost drive a bachelor mad -- That's Trinidad ![[CFT-1872-10-06-001-SINGLE-trinidad-poem.pdf]]