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Frontier ballads
In oil-soaked chests at Watervliet I've laid,
I have rusted in Vancouver through the rains,
I have scorched on Fort Mohave's baked parade, And caked with sand at Sedgwick on the plains.
For I led every march on the border, And I taught every rookie to fight;
Though he'd curse me in close marching order, Lord! — he'd hug me on picket at night
As he thought of the herd-guard at Buford When Sitting Bull swooped within reach, And 'twas every man's life, It was bullet and knife
Had my cartridges jammed in the breech — lock breech!
In my solid block, hammer-lock breech!
It was I who lashed the Modocs from their lair
With Wheaton in the Tule Lava Bed; It was I who drove Chief Joseph to despair
When I streaked the slopes of Bear Paw with his dead.
For I was a proof most impressive —
The Springfield the infantry bore — To redskins with spirits aggressive
That peace is more healthful than war; I showed them on Musselshell River
And again, yet more plain, at Slim Butte; They were plucky as sin But they had to come in When they found how the Springfield could shoot —
shoot, shoot! How my blue-bottle barrel could shoot!
I was Vengeance when, with Miles through trackless snow, The "fighting Fifth" took toll for Custer's fall;
I was Justice when we flayed Geronimo;
I was Mercy to the famished horde of Gall. |
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