Friday, Oct. 9 2009 @ 12:08PM
The inn at Gold Hill, ten miles up from Boulder, has been around about as long as Colorado has been a state. Poet Eugene Field stayed there, and described his visits in "Casey's Table d'Hote," the first poem in his 1889 book A Little Book of Western Verse.
Oh, them days on Red Hoss Mountain, when the skies wuz fair 'nd blue,
when the money flowed like likker, 'nd the folks wuz brave 'nd true!
When the nights wuz crisp 'nd balmy, 'nd the camp wuz all astir,
With the joints all throwed wide open 'nd no sheriff to demur!...
And you, O cherished brother, a-sleepin' 'way out West,
With Red Hoss Mountain huggin' you close to its lovin' breast,--
Oh, do you dream in your last sleep of how we used to do,
Of how we worked our little claims together, me 'nd you?
Why, when I saw you last a smile wuz restin' on your face,
Like you wuz glad to sleep forever in that lonely place;
And so you wuz, 'nd I'd be, too, if I was sleepin' so.
But, bein' how a brother's love ain't for the world to know,
Whenever I've this heartache 'nd this chokin' in my throat,
I lay it all to thinkin' of Casey's tabble dote,
Frank Finn, who took over the inn with his wife, Barbara, and turned it into a legendary restaurant, loved to recite that poem, remembers his son, Brian, who now runs the Gold Hill Inn with his brother Chris.