Classic Poem

One night on the fall beef round-up,
In October of ninety-three,
Jack and I stood guard together —
This is what he said to me:

" Yes, Bill, times have changed a little,
Since we first learned how to ride;
Country's full of barbed wire fences,
And the range is not so wide.

" And, Bill, you are rich and happy,
Got a wife and lots of gold;
Been a man and stuck to business,
While I — well, I'm getting old.

" Yes, I've been in many places,
Sorter on the French qui vive;
Wouldn't get but just located,
When I'd up and have to leave.

" Have to pack my bed and vanish;
Pull out for the high divide;
Seek a new range, strike a cow ranch,
Settle down and try to ride.

" Get a good job on the round-up;
Make a stake and go to town,
There fill up on Injun whiskey,
Pull my gun and saunter " roun".

" Smoke the town and whip the sheriff,
Play 'em high, and shoot and shout,
Till the air was filled with music
And the people all hid out.

" Then I'd saddle up my private,
Fog the street lights on the run,
Till I struck the open prairie —
Then my painting job was done.

" That is why I'm here tonight, Bill;
Ridin' " roun" this old beef herd,
Listening to the coyotes holler —
Echoes of the life I've blurred.

" And it seems like luck's against me,
Now that I am getting gray;
For you know the good, old sayin',
" Every dog will have his day."

" I can't stand the hard knocks now, Bill,
That I used to think was fun;
And I'm like an old cow pony
That's forgotten how to run.

" Say, Bill; you may think I'm nervy,
Wouldn't ask if I was flush,
But a man can't stan' to winter
Like a dogie in the brush.

" And I thought I'd better ask, Bill,
If you'd let me have a show
Just to earn a winter's grub stake,
Even if it's shovelin' snow.

" For, you see, I ain't partic'lar
What I drive at now-a-days,
Just to earn an honest livin',
For it's steady work that pays.

" And a man can't make a fortune
Paintin' towns and gettin' drunk;
Tried it long enough to know, Bill;
Wish I'd all the coin I've sunk.

" Thanks; I knew 'twould be a cold day
When you wouldn't help me, Bill;
Didn't know jest where I'd winter,
And the weather's gettin' chill.

" These nights makes a feller wonder
Where his summer work has gone,
When the frost sticks to his whiskers,
And he needs a coonskin on.

" Hope we'll have a few more warm days,
Till we get these cattle shipped,
For this wind cuts like a blizzard,
Makes me feel like I'd been whipped.

" Two o'clock! Well, who'd 'a' thought it?
Time has flew on angel's wings,
As I heard an eastern feller
Tell a girl down at the Springs.

" So, I guess I'd better hurry
And wake up the next relief —
Guess camp's over in that coolee,
Just beyond the rocky reef.

" So long, Bill; I'll see you later! "
And old Jack passed out of sight;
Gayly singing as he galloped
To his death that stormy night.

For we found his lifeless body
When the morning sun arose,
With the diamond frost still sparkling
On his blood be-spattered clothes.

For, you see, his horse had fallen;
Struck a hole, and Jack was caught,
With his head crushed on a boulder —
Thus his tragic death was wrought.

Poor old Jack! Good hearted always,
May his soul in peace abide,
Where good cow-boys ride in comfort,
Far beyond the " Great Divide. "