| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
The Legend of Boastful Bill
" I'm a ridin' son o' thunder o' the sky,
I'm a broncho twistin' wonder on the fly. Hey, you earthlin's, shut your winders, We're a-rippin' clouds to flinders. If this blue-eyed darlin' kicks at you, you die." Star-dust on his chaps and saddle,
Scornful still of jar and jolt, He'll come back sometime a-straddle Of a bald-faced thunderbolt; And the thin-skinned generation Of that dim and distant day Sure will stare with admiration When they hear old Boastful say: " I was first, as old raw-hiders all confest,
I'm the last of all rough riders, and the best.
Huh! you soft and dainty floaters With your aeroplanes and motors, Huh! are you the greatgrandchildren of the West?" From recitation, original, by Charles Badger Clark, Jr. |
||
|
|
||
|
10 |
||
|
|
||