Larkspur Historical Society

Ranch Crull Cabin Poem by Larry Schlupp

A Time of Reflection…


Upon a prairie rise there sits
A lone cabin called the Crull.
It’s weathered time and passings by,
Some good and some, not so well.

Its weathered woods have been restored
To educate of past.
Life was not as easy then
And seldom would long last.

The Utes knew the grounds in early days.
Then white men from the east did come
Bringing their progressive ways,
Devastation as seen by some.

Mountain men of unknown nature,
Farmers by the droves,
Merchants, keepers of the inn,
And, processors of the groves.

The trees came down by many a count,
Felled by axes, saws and horses.
The lumber reaped was milled and hewn
To build structures of all sources.

Oaks and Street built the mill
To work the cottons and the pine.
Oaks used some of what was sawed
To build a fort so fine.

For protection from those savage Utes
The Peoples’ Fort worked well.
Houses sprang up here and there
And commerce began to dwell.

There was the mill and then a stage stop
Crull …he handled the mail.
Sarah Coberly built the inn
That flourished before the rail.

The village grew with structures strong
Thirteen was the fill.
The Governor loved the town so much
That it was named Huntsville.

But then as progress took its hold
The rail came through the valley.
The Huntsville commerce lost its toe
And could not compete or rally.

The commerce followed by the people
Moved on down the road
And settled three miles to the south
Along the iron horse road.

By a wildflowers’ name of choice
Larkspur” the new town became.
It prospered quickly and so well
That Huntsville was nary the same.

Huntsville, like the sands of time,
Withered with the winds.
The stinging snows and progress fast.
Erased all of Huntsville and its sins.

But, alas, the Cabin Crull remains
To note Huntsville’s distant past.
It quietly dots the plain
Below Hunt Mountain’s mass.

It stands against the passage of time
And educates the young
About our pioneers and early life
And the joys and songs that were sung.

The Crull lives in celebration
Of that early time.
And every Christmas season now
Smiles and remembers so sublime…

Annually, a Christmas wreath is placed
Upon the cabin door
To mark the life and loves that once abounded
But now live there no more.

Larry Schlupp