YOU bad-eyed, tough-mouthed son-of-a-gun, Ye're a hard little beast to break, But ye're good for the fiercest kind of a run An' ye're quick as a rattlesnake. Ye jolted me good when we first met In the dust of that bare corral, An' neither one of us will forget The fight we fit, old pal. But now — well, say, old hoss, if John D. Rockefeller shud come With all the riches his paws are on And want to buy you, you bum, I'd laugh in his face an' pat your neck An' say to him loud an' strong: "I wouldn't sell you this derned old wreck For all your wealth — so long!" For we have slept on the barren plains An' cuddled against the cold; We've been through tempests of drivin' rains When the heaviest thunder rolled; We've raced from fire on the lone prairee An' run from the mad stampede; An' there ain't no money could buy from me A pard of your style an' breed. So I reckon we'll stick together, pard, Till one of us cashes in; Ye're wirey an' tough an' mighty hard, An' homlier, too, than sin. But yer head's all there an' yer heart's all right, An' you've been a good pardner, too, An' if ye've a soul it's clean an' white, You ugly ol' scoundrel, you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLNEY HYMNS: 1. WALKING WITH GOD by WILLIAM COWPER A CHRISTMAS FOLKSONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE BOUGH OF NONSENSE by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 53. WITHOUT HER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI IMMORTALITY by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL I WOULD BE THE SUN by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS TO A PROFILE by BERNARD BARTON |