in' down the wind,--
Oh, a finer life than ridin'
Would be mighty hard to find,

Just a-ridin', just a-ridin',
Splittin' long cracks in the air,
Stirrin' up a baby cyclone,
Rootin' up the prickly pear.

I don't need no art exhibits
When the sunset does his best,
Paintin' everlastin' glories
On the mountains of the west.
And your operas look foolish
When the night bird starts his tune
And the desert's silver-mounted
By the kisses of the moon,

Just a-ridin', just a-ridin',
I don't envy kings nor czars
When the coyotes down the valley
Are a-singin' to the stars.

When my earthly trail is ended
And my final bacon curled,
And the last great round up's finished
At the Home Ranch of the world,
I don't want no harps or haloes,
Robes or other dress-up things,--
Let me ride the starry ranges
On a pinto horse with wings,

Just a-ridin', just a-ridin',
Splittin' chunks o' wintry air,
With your feet froze to your stirrups
And a snowdrift in your hair.
_(As sent by Elwood Adams, a Colorado
cowpuncher.) See "Sun and Saddle
Leather," by Charles Badger Clark, Jr._

THE END OF THE TRAIL

SOH, Bossie, soh!
The water's handy heah,
The grass is plenty neah,
An' all the stars a-sparkle
Bekaze we drive no mo'--
We drive no mo'.

The long trail ends today,--
The long trail ends today,
The punchers go to play
And all you weary cattle
May sleep in peace for sure,--
May sleep in peace for sure,--
Sleep, sleep for sure.

The moon can't bite you heah,
Nor punchers fright you heah.
An' you-all will be beef befo'
We need you any mo',--
We need you any mo'!
_From Pocock's "Curley."_

THE END

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

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| Transcriber's notes: Obvious spelling/typographical and |
| punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison |
| with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external |
| sources. |
| Inconsistent spelling and inline hyphenation occu