Forty miles from Taggart's store, Fifty yet to grind, Heavin' six strung out before, Trailer snubbed behind; Half a world of glarin' sand Prayin' for a tree, Nothin' movin' 'cross the land But the sun and me. Chuck an' luck! luck an' chuck! Grunts the workin' wheels; Lazy gust swirls up the dust From the hawses' heels. I've been young and raced and sung, But I've learnt my load. Slow, slow, on we go Out the stretchin' road. Where the sky-line waves and breaks Shines a misty beach And the blue of ripplin' lakes— Lakes no man kin reach. Just beyond my leaders' bits Winds the life I know, Ruts and 'royos, hills and pits In a daylong row. Chuck an' luck! luck an' chuck! Life's more miss than hit. Luck's the thing I dream and sing; Chuck is all I git! 'Neath the sky I crawl and fry Like the horny toad. Slow, slow, on we go Out the stretchin' road. When I reach that sparklin' line Where the ripples run, There'll be just this road of mine And the dust and sun. Mebbe on my last far hill, Where the dream-mist clears, I'll be freightin', freightin' still Down the road of years. Chuck an' luck! luck an' chuck! Sky-lines mostly lie, Yet they beat the limp mesquit That goes trailin' by. Luck enough to move my stuff— More I've never knowed. Slow, slow, on we go Out the stretchin' road. Slim and far our shadow swings; Sun is on his knees. Some one's campin' at the springs— Smell it down the breeze. Chuck time, boys, and sleep besides, When we've chomped our hay. Durn your dusty, trusty hides! You've sho' earned your pay. Chuck an' luck! luck an' chuck! Grunts the weary wheels; Dreams untold and sunset gold, Cussin' sweat and meals. If you kin, Lord, let me win, But I'll move my load. Slow, slow, on we go Out the stretchin' road. |