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Prairie Songs |
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THE SONG OF THE WINCHESTER
F
ULL heir to the twist-bored yager gun with its half-inch slug, I Stand; His rest was the Forty-niner's arm, as mine is the sportsman's
hand. I am king of my day as he of his, from the swamp to the saw-backed spur, And there's never a trail but has heard the hail of the ringing Winchester!
I've saved the leaguered wagon-train from the scalping-knife
and stake; I have held the lead through the blind stampede in the bison's
dust-dimmed wake;
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