Classic Poem

Did you ever hear the story of how one stormy night,
A wild beef herd stampeded, down yonder to the right?
No? Well, you see that sloping hill, beyond the sagebrush flat,
East of the old round-up corral, where all the boys are at?
'Twas one night in November, and I was on first guard,
A storm was brewing in the west, the wind was blowing hard.
Of wild Montana steers we had about a thousand head,
Belonging to the “Circle C,” and each one full of “Ned.”
The season had been rainy, and the grass was thick and long,
So the herd had found good grazing in the hills the whole day long.
The clouds had piled up in the west, a strangely grotesque mass,
And the rain began to patter on the weeds and buffalo grass.
The lightning flared up in the clouds, and all was deathly still,
Except the melancholy howl of a coyote on the hill.
The vivid, shifting lightning kept bright the stormy scene,
And I could see the broken hills, with wash-outs in between.
And when Bill, who was standing first guard with me that night,
Came jogging past, he 'lowed that it certainly was a sight.
And then commenced to whistle, while I began to sing,
The lightning flared along the sky like demons on the wing.
But round and round rode Bill and me, with slickers buttoned tight,
And looking like dim specters in the constant changing light.
The thunder now began to peal and crash along the sky,
The cattle pawed and moved about, and the wind went whistling by.
Then, suddenly, without a sign, there came an awful crash,
And my eyes were almost blinded by a bright and burning flash
That filled the air an instant, then as suddenly went out,
While little sparks of lightning seemed floating all about.
And then the scene that followed defies my tongue to tell,
For those wild steers stampeded when the deadly lightning fell.
I don't know how it happened, but when my vision clears,
I find that I am riding in the midst of running steers.
And Oh! the thoughts that filled my brain as in that living tide
Of hoofs and horns and glowing eyes, I made that fearful ride.
On and on at deadly speed, I dared not slacken pace;
A stone wall could not stop us in that blood-curdling race.
And if a cowboy ever prayed with fervor in his prayer,
'Twas me among those madd'n'd beasts, for I prayed in despair.
My horse was jammed and thrown about as o'er the rocky ground
We sped like some vast torrent, with stubborn, sullen sound.
But when my horse was almost gone, and death stalked all about,
I heard above the awful roar a cowboy's ringing shout.
And looking backward in the gloom, I caught a fleeting glance
Of cowboys flitting to and fro, like spirits in a dance.
And then I felt my nerve come back, like some old, long-lost friend,
For I had given up all hope, and waited for the end.
At first I couldn't hardly tell just what they hoped to do,
But soon I saw they meant to cut that running herd in two.
For after chopping off a bunch, they lined up with a cheer,
To form a wedge of solid men and charge them from the rear.
Then on they came through tossing horns, with old Jack in the lead;
The cattle parted stubbornly, but didn't slacken speed.
On and on, with sturdy force, those brave lads struggled on,
But I doubted if they'd reach me before my horse was gone.
For, as I spurred his reeking flanks, and pulled his head up high,
He slowly sank beneath me, and I felt that I must die.
But up again he struggled, then down he went once more,
And I found myself a knockin' at old death's gloomy door.
And when I got my senses, the hoofs and horns were gone,
And Bill was kneeling at my side with streaming slicker on.
You see, my leg was broken and chest was badly crushed,
By half a dozen reckless steers, as over me they rushed.
But it's hard to kill a cowboy; they're pretty tough you know,
Else I'd been riding in the clouds with angels long ago.