'Way high up the Mogollons
That top-hawse done his best,
Through whippin' brush and rattlin' stones,
From canyon-floor to crest
But ever when Bob turned and hoped
A limp remains to find,
A red-eyed lion, belly roped
But healthy, loped behind.
"Oh, glory be to me," grunts he,
"This glory trail is rough,
Yet even till the Judgment Morn
I'll keep this dally 'round the horn,
For never any hero born
Could stoop to holler: 'nuff!'"
Three suns had rode their circle home
Beyond the desert's rim,
And turned their star herds loose to roam
The ranges high and dim;
Yet up and down and round and 'cross
Bob pounded, weak and wan,
For pride still glued him to his hawse
And glory drove him on.
[p. 32]
"Oh, glory be to me," sighs he.
"He kaint be drug to death,
But now I know beyond a doubt
Them heroes I have read about
Was only fools that stuck it out
To end of mortal breath."
'Way high up the Mogollons
A prospect man did swear
That moon dreams melted down his bones
And hoisted up his hair:
A ribby cow-hawse thundered by,
A lion trailed along,
A rider, ga'nt, but chin on high,
Yelled out a crazy song.
"Oh, glory be to me!" cries he,
"And to my noble noose!
O stranger, tell my pards below
I took a rampin' dream in tow,
And if I never lay him low,
I'll never turn him loose!"
Charles Badger Clark.
[1] Pronounced by the natives "muggy-yones.