Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.98

From Email:	Required Email Address Not Valid.
To Email:	Email Address Not Valid. Required
Subject	Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem	'Way high up the Mogollons, Among the mountain tops, A lion cleaned a yearlin's bones And licked his thankful chops, When on the picture who should ride, A-trippin' down a slope, But High-Chin Bob, with sinful pride And mav'rick-hungry rope. "_Oh, glory be to me," says he,_ "_And fame's unfadin' flowers!_ _All meddlin' hands are far away;_ _I ride my good top-hawse today_ _And I'm top-rope of the Lazy J----_ _Hi! kitty cat, you're ours!_" That lion licked his paw so brown And dreamed soft dreams of veal-- And then the circlin' loop sung down And roped him 'round his meal. He yowled quick fury to the world Till all the hills yelled back; The top-hawse gave a snort and whirled And Bob caught up the slack. "_Oh, glory be to me," laughs he._ "_We hit the glory trail._ _No human man as I have read_ _Darst loop a ragin' lion's head,_ _Nor ever hawse could drag one dead_ _Until we told the tale._" 'Way high up the Mogollons That top-hawse done his best, Through whippin' brush and rattlin' stones, From canyon-floor to crest. But ever when Bob turned and hoped A limp remains to find, A red-eyed lion, belly roped But healthy, loped behind. "_Oh, glory be to me" grunts he._ "_This glory trail is rough,_ _Yet even till the Judgment Morn_ _I'll keep this dally 'round the horn,_ _For never any hero born_ _Could stoop to holler: Nuff!_'" Three suns had rode their circle home Beyond the desert's rim, And turned their star-herds loose to roam The ranges high and dim; Yet up and down and 'round and 'cross Bob pounded, weak and wan, For pride still glued him to his hawse And glory drove him on. "_Oh, glory be to me," sighs he._ "_He kaint be drug to death,_ _But now I know beyond a doubt_ _Them heroes I have read about_ _Was only fools that stuck it out_ _To end of mortal breath._" 'Way high up the Mogollons A prospect man did swear That moon dreams melted down his bones And hoisted up his hair: A ribby cow-hawse thundered by, A lion trailed along, A rider, ga'nt but chin on high, Yelled out a crazy song. "_Oh, glory be to me!" cries he,_ "_And to my noble noose!_ _Oh, stranger, tell my pards below_ _I took a rampin' dream in tow,_ _And if I never lay him low,_ _I'll never turn him loose!_"
	Type the characters you see in the picture Required