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frontier Ballads
I've seen some bits of service of a somewhat stirrin' brand When the West was callin' lusty for a civilizin' hand, And, myself, I've had some practice in that missionary work With the men who did the business, from the buttes to Al-buquerq'.
They've sent some stunnin' strategists, so history records, To show the noble red man how the Nation loves its wards, And some was politicians, and some was soft of heart, And some was full of ginger, but couldn't make a start.
But the man who knew his business as the king-bird knows the
hawk; Who started with the rifle and finished with the talk; Who wouldn't stop for bluffin' when he once got started right, Was him I'm tellin' you about — you bet he came to fight!
I know he's no West Pointer — I've a notion, what is more, That it isn't only Pointers who may know the game of war, And if he's a little partial to the medals on his chest He's got a darned good right to be; he earned 'em in the West.
For I've follered him in winter through those blamed Montana
snows When the hills was stiff as granite and the very air was froze, And seen him ridin' out in front to lead the double-quick When the lines went into action on the banks of Rosebud Creek.
I've lurched across the Painted Plains, my temples like to burst, And seen men suckin' out their veins to quench their burnin'
thirst, With the sky a blazin' furnace and the earth a bakin' sea, And he was there beside us — and was just as dry as we.
Oh, hang these army politics, when jealousy and spite
Can rob a veteran of his praise, his dearest, hard-earned right!
There's just one kind of officer enlisted men can like —
The kind who keeps his bearings when the shots begin to strike. |
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