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FORGET THE EAST 67 |
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I've rid a pitchin' bronco till the sky was underÂneath;
I've tackled every desert in the land;
I've sampled four X whiskey till I could n't hardly see,
And I 've dallied with the quicksands of the Grand.
I 've argued with the marshals of a half-dozen burgs; I've been drug free and fancy by a cow; I've had three years' campaignin' with the fight-in', bitin' Ninth; But I never lost my temper till right now.
I've had the yellow fever, I've been plugged full of
holes, I've grabbed an army mule plumb by its tail. But I never was fightin', really downright fightin'
mad, Till you ups and hands me that damn ginger ale.
FORGET THE EAST By N. Howard Thorp
Oh, come en ride the Western range along with
Blue en me; Forget your cares and worries — jest play you're
young en free. You'll see the high Cliff Dwellings, built by a race
of old; You'll see the Spanish diggin's, where the Padres
got their gold; You'll see the Penitentes in their quaint religious
play, Their crosses en Morada, in which they go to pray. |
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