Earl Alonzo Brininstool

Cattle Land's Farewell

There ain't no Cattle Land no more
That isn't wire-fenced;
Things ain't the way they was before
The Western rush commenced.
The open range that once we had,
No more is grazin' grounds;
The cow game's goin' to the bad,
When we are kept in bounds.
Our herds was free, in other days,
To wander where they would;
No lines was set for them to graze;
The got it where they could.
But now the onward march o' Time
Has brought about a change,
And Cattle Land brands it a crime
To grab another's range.
We wasn't warned by bands o' wire
Which stretched their lengths ahead,
That we must herd our stock no nigher,
But turn 'em back instead.
We didn't grab the water-holes
And hold 'em for our own;
The old-time cattle-men had souls;
There wa'n't no grazin' zone.
We neighbored in a friendly way,
Though we was far apart;
Nobody told us go or stay,
And we was big o' heart.
We loved the lands that held our herds,
As long as we was free,
And didn't have no war o' words
'Bout what our rights should be.
But now across our hard-won lands,
They've stretched the wire through,
And put on us restrainin' hands,
And told us what to do.
We're marchin' down the Western slope,
'Tis Progress bids us go,
But in our breasts the fires o' Hope,
Are burnin' dim and low!