The lawyer caravan was northward bound, when noon time with its hunger came around,

And for which surely something must be done; therefore they stopped over in Lexington,

At Jacob Spawr’s tavern beside the road; the buggies’ occupants glad to unload;

Judge Davis, Lincoln, Gridley and brethren, would break journey ere going on again;

They unhitched the tired horses to be fed, leading them back to the animal shed;

Brushing themselves before they went inside, with landlord Spawr acting as eager guide.

The tavern was plain one-story affair, built soon after Spawr had located there;

Its main function as home for family, with room enough to serve as hostelry;

Putting up travelers now and again, brought in good income, very welcome then;

A group like this one a real windfall meant, which taxed their resources to full extent;

But the good host was not caught unprepared, the guest under his roof properly fared;

Nothing for their comfort was left undone, that their stay might be enjoyable one.

To the front room he showed the company, which was dubbed the ‘office’ by courtesy;

There they relaxed after wearisome trip, and settled back in easy fellowship;

The flow of talk on varied topics ranged, with lively banter back and forth exchanged,

In which Mister Lincoln took active part; some chance remark an argument would start,

With Whigs and Democrats together thrown, few were remiss letting their views be known;

Others deferred when Lincoln had the floor, he’d served term in Congress sometime before.

Three little Spawr daughters came shyly in, each beaming face had an expectant grin;

The men their serious discussion quelled, while pretty maids their admiration held;

With childish prattle offering to please, nor backward to climb upon Lincoln’s knees,

While cuddled there in his capacious lap, little hands for a nursery tale would they clap;

And when he had no more stories to tell, he asked the children to stand up and spell;

He could share in such happy childhood joys, while telling them of his own little boys.

Tempting aromas from kitchen would steal, where womenfolk were preparing the meal;

While guest were partaking ample repast, outside with dark cloud sky grew overcast;

Just as the rain downpour descended hard, the children rushed shouting into the yard,

Where ducks and geese quacking in panic ran; behind them laughing followed a tall man,

Waving long arms he hopped briskly around, ‘till all the stray poultry a shelter found;

Lincoln came back in wet dripping array, the fun was worth it, he was heard to say.

The house was much altered in later day, the oldest section had been moved away;

Jacob Spawr lived into an advanced age, respected as the town’s venerable sage;

In rocking chair, wearing a stovepipe hat, talking with old acquaintances he sat;

Living over those tavern times again, when he had fed and lodged some noted men;

Having Lincoln as guest he treasured the most, that he had known him was his proudest boast;

His interest in affairs was always keen, many changes ‘round Lexington he’s seen.

The three daughters into woman hood grown, were married and raised families of their own;

Their Lincoln memories were vivid and clear, smilingly told for those who wished to hear;

On subsequent visits they noticed more, the deep respect which his companions bore;

On arriving with bantering spirit gay, with his small admirers he romped in play;

As grandmothers it pleased them to relate, helping at table on great man to wait;

Whose fondness for children so evident, his comings always was looked-for event.

          His presence was greeted with great cheering. After the cheering had subsided, Mr. Lincoln gave a short address. He complimented Lexington on her part in the political upheaval that resulted in his election, Lexington having giving him 216 votes to 195 to his great competitor, Stephen A. Douglas. This was on Wednesday afternoon, Nov. 21, 1860.

          I wonder how many are now living who were present on that occasion that remember this historic event of fifty years ago.

A. V. Pierson

(Note: Michael Hefner is the great-great-grandfather of Hugh Hefner founder of Playboy magazine)