Yavapai Pete (Curley Fletcher Poems)
Now Yavapai Pete was a cowpuncher neat,From Arizona's fair clime.Lived in his saddle and punched most the cattleFrom here to ...
Now Yavapai Pete was a cowpuncher neat,From Arizona's fair clime.Lived in his saddle and punched most the cattleFrom here to ...
Bill Springer, ranchman, lived south of Dodge,He chose his bride from an Indian lodge.He had a massive, athletic frame,And a ...
One day I thought I'd have some fun,And see how punching cows was done;So, when the roundup had begun,I tackled ...
The wind is blowin' cold down the mountain tips of snowAnd 'cross the ranges layin' brown and dead;It's cryin' through ...
There is some that like the city-Grass that's curried smooth and green,Theaytres and stranglin' collars,Wagons run by gasoline-But for me ...
I liked the way we used to do, when cattle was plenty and folks was few.The people gathered frum ...
They call me "The Scum," the saddle tramp bumAnd ever since that old dayWhen I quit the strife of the ...
On beyond the jumping-off place,Where the highway turneth south,You will find a yawning hollowAnd you'll dash into its mouth.Just beyond ...
(ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING)Oh, come, my beloved, from thy winter abode,From thy home on the Yuba, thy ranch overflowed;For ...
It was down at the home ranch, a bunch of cow pokesGot in an old hoss that was only half ...
When I'm ridin' alone in the night-time way out on the desolate range,With the moon shinin' down through the cloud-hills ...
The sodden slopes are turnin' greenWhere grassy shoots are peepin' out'The purtiest site you ever seen--It makes a cowman want ...
The piano and my writing-desk are covered with a pall And charwomen and chimney-sweeps foregather in the hall; But the ...
The bunkhouse on the cattle ranch Was lowly, but at nightWhen its small window was aglow We hurried ...
I've a black cat here in camp,As black as black can be,As bright-eyed, roguish scampAs ever you did see.I carried ...
What conversazzhyonies wuz I really did not know, For that, you must remember, wuz a powerful spell ago; The camp ...
Botticelli grinned with egg tempera congealed at the hinge of his lips Velasquez licked shine from an aubergine blackened in ...
SANDBOX MINUS JOHN DILLINGER EQUALS WHAT? Often I return to the cover of Trout Fishing in America. I took the ...
Well, Mabel, 'tis over and ended--- The ball I wrote was to be; And oh! it was perfectly splendid--- If ...
The clover was in blossom, an' the year was at the June, When Flap-jack Billy hit the town, likewise O'Flynn's ...
Is it long as a noodle or fat as an egg? Is it lumpy like a potato or ringed like ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories