Classic Poem

Sun down the road where once the range,
Unfenced, rolled sweeping like the sea,
Now gray now green the grassy change,
Wind-swept and wavering languorously.

Sun down the road and gentle kine
Shuffling along a homeward lane,
Where once the cowboy rode the line,
Captain of herd and hill and plain.

Listen! In dim Valhalla he
Flings past the milling phantom steers,
Chanting, in ghostly revelry,
The sprightly spirit of his years:

" Come my little cayuse and lope along, lope along,
Don't you go to start a little row!
You must n't go to buckin' or to bitin' or to kickin';
Don't interrupt the angels while their little harps they're pickin',
For we got to keep the rules or both of us will get a lickin';
We're ridin' on the Big Range now.

" But there's not a single echo as you lope along, lope along;
Not a single friend to answer " How!"
There is sunshine over Yuma and the little owls are cryin';
Red across the 'dobes strings of chilis are a dryin';
But we're cinched to ride in Heaven, and that's what we get for dyin';
We're ridin' on the Big Range now. "

With lithe-limbed ease of poise and seat,
With scarf of flame and starry spur,
Head up and proud he rides to meet
The mighty throng that sway and stir;

Knight, Archer, Troubadour and Squire,
Poet and Warrior, Prince and Peer
Forgathering, mark his strange attire,
Astounded at the song they hear:

" Come my little cayuse and lope along, lope along,
We're headed for the Grand Pow-wow!
But down in Arizona there's a Chola girl a-waitin';
There's sunshine over Yuma where the mocking-birds are matin';
Oh, Glory is a mighty lonely trail — this navigatin'
All around the Big Range now.

" So come my little cayuse and lope along, lope along;
Guess we got in wrong, somehow.
Don't exactly fancy just the way the folks are starin';
Can't exactly cotton to the funny clothes they're wearin';
Oh, it's Heaven, but it's lonely, and we've had our little airin',
So we 'll fan it back to Arizona now. "