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A Ranger |
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To the shade of rock and bush and yucca stake.
And the mountains heaved and rippled far away And the desert broiled as on the devil's prong, But he didn't mind the devil if his head kept clear and level
And the hoofs beat out their clear and steady song. Came the yellow west, and on a far off rise
Something black crawled up and dropped beyond the rim,
And he reached his rifle out and rubbed his eyes While he cussed the southern hills for growin' dim. Down a hazy 'royo came the coyote cries, Like they laughed at him because he'd lost his mark, And the smile that brands a fighter pulled his mouth a little tighter
As he set his spurs and rode on through the dark. Came the moonlight on a trail that wriggled higher
Through the mountains that look into Mexico, And the shadows strung his nerves like banjo wire And the miles and minutes dragged unearthly slow. Then a black mesquite spit out a thread of fire And the canyon walls flung thunder back again, And he caught himself and fumbled at his rifle wlule he grumbled
That his bridle arm had weight enough for ten. Though his rifle pointed wavyJike and slack And he grabbed for leather at his hawse's shy, 135 |
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