Classic Poem

Out they came from Liberty, out across the plains,
Two-stepping, single-footing, hard-boiled and easy-shooting
Whips cracking: oaths snapping â?¦
Hear those banjos wail —
Emigratin' westward on the Oregon Trail.

Fight through the heathens, Rickarees and Sioux,
Aim across the wagon-wheel and drill the varmints through.
Line 'em up, line 'em out, pray the tugs'll hold,
Wheels a-screeching glory through the sunset's gold;
Keep y'r musket handy, trigger on the cock,
Peel y'r eyes, kid, if you'd see old Independence Rock!
Took our luck right in our hands; can't afford to fail —
Hittin f'r the westward on the bone-strewn trail.

Milt's woman had a kid. Nary doctor nigh,
Milt thought he'd lose 'em; figured that they'd die;
God's mercy pulled 'em through; Hallelujah, sing!
Put y'r faith in God, friends, and conquer everything!
Line them millin' leaders out; get the bulls a-goin' —
Got to get to Oregon!

West winds blowing
Bitter from the Stonies, looming blue ahead,
Wagons bogged in prairie mud, teams stuck fast,
Heave the tumbled baggage off, clean the wagon bed,
Sweat and curse and on again, freed at last,
On again and buck the rain, buck the wind and hail —
Emigration westward on the Oregon Trail.

Onward through the mountains, lifting to the blue,
Up and through the rock cuts, weaving to the pass;
Old Ezra stopped here, where his spirit flew,
Left his little gran'child, such a pretty lass;
Ben's a-goin' to take her; that'll make him eight —
God sure'll bless him for his kindly thought.
Hitch up and roll again. Hit's getting late
And this old defile ain't no place to be caught;
No time for sorrowing, tear-eyed and pale —
Got to keep a-movin' on the Oregon Trail.

Can't see the wagon-tracks; trail's pinched out;
Nothing but the snow peaks and shale-rock slopes,
Outspan the bull-teams; we'll heave them wagons
Upside and over with the rawhide ropes —
Let's buck the mountains! Let's whip the snow crusts!
Pounding through the chill wind, shirts sweat-black â?¦
Gee! But I wish I was back in Liberty!
Pull, there, you quitter! for y'u can't turn back —
Top of the mountains now, keen in the starlight,
Sunup's a-comin' in the western sea,
Yellow beams of glory-glow, floodin' the snow peaks —
There lies Oregon! Glory to Thee!
Punch up the bull teams, tune up the banjo,
Hallelujah! Praise God, kneeling in the snow,
Land of the dripping fir, land of the homestead,
Oregon! Oregon! Beckoning below —
All out for Liberty, out across the ranges,
Two-stepping, single-footing, hard-boiled and glory-singing,
Whips cracking, oaths snapping, bull teams charging on,
Babes a-borning, me a-dying, trail shouts ringing —
Here come the conquerors (and there lie the frail)
Roaring to the sunset on the Oregon Trail!