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From “Western Poems”
THE OUTLAW stands with blindfold eyes, | |
| His feet set wide apart; | |
| His coal-black hide gleams in the sun— | |
| Thar’s killin’ in his heart. | |
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| A puncher squats upon his heels, | 5 |
| His saddle at his side; | |
| He’s sizin’ up Ol’ Dynamite, | |
| That he is booked to ride. | |
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| The cowboy rises, lifts his saddle— | |
| A little tune he’s hummin’; | 10 |
| Walks cat-like all around the hoss— | |
| “Hold him, boys, I’m comin’!” | |
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| Now up above the outlaw’s back | |
| He lifts the load o’ leather; | |
| Then care-ful-lee he lets it down, | 15 |
| Like the droppin’ of a feather. | |
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| Ol’ Dynamite he stands stock-still, | |
| Plumb like a gentled pony. | |
| A leap, a yell! an’ Buck’s all set— | |
| “On with the cer-e-mo-nee!” | 20 |
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| The snubbers rip the blindfold off, | |
| The punchers yip and yell. | |
| Ol’ Dynamite gives one grand snort, | |
| Then starts his little Hell. | |
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| He plunges forward on his feet, | 25 |
| His hind heels in the air. | |
| Then up an’ down he bucks an’ backs | |
| Like a loco rockin’ chair. | |
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| But now he stops—he spins around— | |
| He bawls, he bites, he kicks! | 30 |
| He rares straight up into the air, | |
| Then down on two steel sticks. | |
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| But look! “My Gawd!” the crowd screams out, | |
| “He’s boltin’ for the stand!” | |
| Then just as quick he jerks up short— | 35 |
| Thar’s Buck a-stickin’ grand. | |
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| Buck leaps to earth, lifts his hat, | |
| Bows to the whirl of cheers— | |
| Then turning slides his saddle off, | |
| An’ quickly disappears. | 40 |
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