Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Old HankN. Howard Thorp
D
Out on a scoutin’ trip, circlin’ the flat land dry,
Cuttin’ the sign of the cattle, watchin’ which way they drift,
Pullin’ ’em out of the bog holes, givin’ the weak ones a lift,
Throwin’ ’em back on the home range, each day in a different place,
In slickers en leggins of leather, through sand-storms that blister your face…..
For he made his pile in the old trail days, the days of the old long-horn.
Yep, I’m only a worn-out old puncher—though the boss thinks a heap of me!
For I was with him on the Pecos, in the Raid of Seventy-three!….
Then he married, en got him religion, en tells you how you mustn’t do wrong;
How a brand is the cow-man’s protection—then he’ll deal you a gospel song!
Or burnt over a brand with a runnin’-iron, or worked on an old cow’s ear!
’Course, friends, all this talk’s confidential—I wouldn’t want Old Hank to see
That I haven’t changed my damned religion, since the Trail Herd of Seventy-three!