great public park;
We roofless go, with the cook’s bateau to fol-
low our hungry crew—
A billion of spruce and hell turned loose when
the Allegash drive goes through.
My lad with the spurs at his heel
Has a cattle-ranch bronco to bust;
A thousand of Texans to wheedle and wheel
To market through smother and dust.
But I with the peavy and pole