Earl Alonzo Brininstool (Эрл Алонзо Брининстул)

The Bunkhouse Boys

Who are a mighty happy crew
In ev'rything they say and do?
The wildest bunch I ever knew —
The bunkhouse boys.
Who, through their manners may be rough,
Are true as steel — the pure gold stuff,
And might quick to call a bluff?
The bunkhouse boys.
Who ride the ranges, lone and drear,
And herd the bawlin', restless steer
Through storm and sunshine, year on year?
The bunkhouse boys.
Who ride through town to have their fun,
With foamin' broncos on the the run,
And smoke a-spittin' from each gun?
The bunkhouse boys.
Who paint the place a lurid red,
When decent folks are all in bed?
The bunch that's allus raisin' Ned —
The bunkhouse boys.
Who blow their hard-earned ducats in
At playing poker — lose or win,
And take their losses with a grin?
The bunkhouse boys.
When they ain't broke, who allus lends
A five or ten-spot to their friends,
An' don't expect no dividends?
The bunkhouse boys.
Who are the kings of sagebrush land,
And allus give the glad, glad hand?
The crowd that wears the true-blue brand —
The bunkhouse boys.

1. Cattle Land's Farewell
2. Frederic Remington
3. Unrest on the Range
4. Passing of the Old West
5. The Grub-Pile Call

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1566

Последние стихотворения

To English version