Dead beat and loafer in a single heat,
Poor hopeless Dexter mourns his defeat
And meeked eyed Roper, now the deed is done,
May go may go and vegetate on whiskey and rum
And all the fools that followed in his wake,
Can now with calmness and contrition take
A retrospective glance at what they would
Have brought upon us if they could.

A place creative power alone can mend,
When nature seems all tilted up on end,
Where ridge and gully are so near akin
One can't get out, or when he is out, get in.
A county seat, great gods and little men
A polecat's paradise, a badger's den,
A prairie wolf's retreat, a fox's lair
All of them are, or can be quartered there.

Then what a well matched name, for each a place,
The far famed Dexter feels the deep disgrace.
Horse loving Bonner's wounded to the quick,
And mourns in secret at the scurvy trick.
But then again, you know a miller can
Get fooled himself as well as any man
When once befogged with speculative mist
He'll go as usual for the total grist.

What say the people, nothing simply this:
"Let every thriving impecunious cuss
And smooth toungued hypocrite foot up the cost,
Of all such games as Roper played and lost.
"Hurray" for Fairbury -- the people's choice.
Up, all ye citizens, awake! rejoice,
Use all your efforts, energy and skill
To build a City, factory and mill.

October 18, 1871