The Last Mountain Man

the eagle watches me from high above it has finally come to this I stand on this ragged lookout this jagged rock alone my friends are gone Bruce "Bear Paw" Perry Billy Fly and Blackpowder Bourgoin died in these mountains one by one we shouldered hardships together fought a winter that pinched three toes from my right foot and took a bite of my left ear I'll never understand those flatlanders down below where spring means mud eating pigs and chicken when they could be roasting elk but the boosway is gone rendezvous cancelled no beaver left heck, there's no wild Indians left they've all been herded into reservations near the forts a pitiful place for a proud people what is left for me? where will I lay my trusty Hawken gun? perhaps I'll work in a trading post or guide wagon trains west I've earned every tear these mountains had to offer battled bear, wolves, and hostiles but my biggest sorrow is leaving I close my eyes and I'm there spring ice melting in the river trading with my Indian brothers smoking the peace pipe the rustle of golden birch leaves on an Autumn ridge a misty waterfall soaking me to the skin throwing peat moss on the roof of my log cabin I think I'll just linger here while the birds are singing