A familiar voice lifted itself in tuneless but cheerful song:
“He lived at peace with all mankind,
In friendship he was true;
His coat had pocket holes behind.
His pantaloons were blue.”
Hugh grinned. “The dawggoned old-timer. I ain’t seen him since I quit ridin’,” he said aloud to himself.
“But poor old Grimes is now at rest,
Nor fears misfortune’s frown;
He had a double-breasted vest,
The stripes ran up and down,”