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The Old Mackenzie Trail
To Kansas bound; the dust, the cowboy songs
And cries, the pistol's sharp report,— the free, Wild days in Texas by the Rio Grande. And some men say when dusky night shuts down, Dark, cloudy nights without a kindly star, One sees dim horsemen skimming o'er the plain Hard by Mackenzie's trail; and keener ears Have heard from deep within the bordering hills The tramp of ghostly hoofs, faint cattle lows, The rumble of a moving wagon train, Sometimes far echoes of a frontier song; Then sounds grow fainter, shadows troop away,— On westward, westward, as they in olden time Went rangeing o'er the old Mackenzie Trail. John A. Lomax. |
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