The Voice

Give me the hardy breed that thrives in the arid wild The tougher kind that walks with a sure unfaltering stride, The restless heart that without fear the mountains roams; Not the sissy softer variety that favors the mushy loams. I need those manly swines with sun-burned sinew Not the convenience-seeking boys stained with dew, I reward the uncertain gambling of the wandering type Not the sure stocks invested with opportunistic hype. I have been here for years but a generation comes and goes And yet some think they can predict me with their fake laws, I read the speculative greed of fellows from a safe mile away For my expansive experience spans a million years and a day. I pick a man of valor from the faking crowds, In his quiet among the city’s clambering sounds; None can ever cheat my heart-scanning eye that sees Beyond the snow-capped peaks and the roaring seas. And my ears are ever un-waxed to listen To the crackling labors of any gifted pen That scribbles this account of my fickle nature So men may know the traits that give me pleasure.