Classic Poem

We're up in the morning ere breaking of day,
The chuck wagon's busy, the flapjack's in play,
The herd is a stir over hillside and vale,
With the night riders crowding them into the trail.

2

Come take up your cinches, come shake out your reins.
Come wake your old broncho and break for the plains.
Come roust out your steers from the long chapparal,
For the outfit is off to the railroad corral.

3

The sun circles upward, the steers as they plod
Are pounding to powder the hot prairie sod
It seems, as the dust makes you dizzy and sick,
That we'll never reach noon, and the cool shady creek.

4

So tie up your kerchief and ply up your nag
Come, dry up your grumbles, and try not to lag;
Come on with your steers from the long chapparal,
We're far on the road to the railroad corral.

5

Come, shake out your rawhide and snake it up fair;
Come, break your old broncho to take in his share;
Come from your steers in the long chapparal,
For 'tis all in the drive to the railroad corral.

6

But the longest of days must reach evening at last,
The hills all climbed, the creeks all past.
The tired herd droops in the yellow light;
Let them loaf if they will, for the railroad's in sight.