FOLK COLLECTION 11: The Skaggs Foundation Cowboy Poetry Collection
29769 results found for "No Search Criteria Set"Book Title
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Author
Poem Title
First Lines
Keywords
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
104
Robert Service
Little Moccasins
Come out, O Little Moccasins, and frolic on the snow! Cme out, O tiny beaded feet, and twinkle in the light! I'll play the old Red River reel, you used to love it so: Awake, O Little Moccasins, and dance for me to-night!
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
107
Robert Service
The Wanderlust
The Wanderlust has lured me to the seven lonely seas, Has dumped me on the tailing-piles of dearth; The Wanderlust has haled me from the morris chairs of ease, Has hurled me to the ends of all the earth.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
112
Robert Service
The Trapper's Christmas Eve
It's mighty lonesome-like and drear. Above the Wild the moon rides high, And shows up sharp and needle-clear The emptiness of earth and sky; No happy homes with a love a-glow; No Santa Claus to make believe: Just snow and snow, and then more snow; It's Christmas Eve, it's Christmas Eve.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
115
Robert Service
The World's All Right
The World's all right; serene I sit, And cease to puzzle over it. There's much that's mighty strange, no doubt; But Nature knows what she's about; And in a millon years or so We'll know more than to-day we know. Old Evolution's under way-- What ho! the World's all right, I say.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
118
Robert Service
The Baldness Of Chewed Ear
When Chewed-ear Jenkins got hitched up to Guinneyveer McGee, His flowin' locks, ye recollect, wuz frivolous an' free; But in old Hymen's jack-pot, it's a most amazin' thing, Them flowin' locks jet disappeared like snow-balls in the Spring.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
124
Robert Service
The Mother
There will be a singing in your heart, There will be a rapture in your eyes; You will be a woman set apart, You will be so wonderful and wise. You will sleep, and when from dreams you start, As of one that wakes in Paradise, There will be a singing in your heart, There will be a rapture in your eyes.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
126
Robert Service
The Dreamer
The lone man gazed and gazed upon his gold, His sweat, his blood, the wage of weary days; But now how sweet, how doubly sweet to hold All gay and gleamy to the campfire blaze. The evening sky was sinister and cold; The willows shivered, wanly lay the snow.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
131
Robert Service
At Thirty-Five
Three score and ten, the psalmist saith, And half my course is well-nigh run; I've had my flout at dusty death, I've had my whack of feast and fun. I've mocked at those who prate and preach; I've laughed with any man alive; But now with sobered heart I reach The Great Divide of Thirty-five.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
133
Robert Service
The Squaw Man
The cow-moose comes to water, and the beaver's overbold, The net is in the eddy of the stream; The teepee stars the vivid sward with russet, red and gold, And in the velvet gloom the fire's a-gleam. The night is ripe with quiet, rich with incense of the pine.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
137
Robert Service
Home And Love
Just Home and Love! the words are small Four little letters unto each; And yet you will not find in all The wide and gracious range of speech Two more so tenderly complete: When angels talk in Heaven above, I'm sure they have no words more sweet Than Home and Love.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
139
Robert Service
I'm Scared Of It All
I'm scared of it all, God's truth! so I am; It's too big and brutal for me. My nerve's on the raw and I don't give a damn For all the "hoorah" that I see. I'm pinned between subway and overhead train, Where automobillies swoop down: Oh, I want to go back to the timber again-- I'm cared of the terrible town.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
142
Robert Service
A Song Of Success
Ho! we were strong, we were swift, we were brave. Youth was a challenge, and Life was a fight. All that was best in us gladly we gave, Sprange from the rally, and leapt for the height. Smiling is Love in a foam of Spring flowers: Harden our hearts to him--on let us press!
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
144
Robert Service
The Song Of The Camp Fire I
Heed me, feed me, I am hungry, I am red-tongued with desire; Boughs of balsam, slabs of cedar, gummy fagots of the pine, Heap them on me, let me hug them to my eager heart of fire, Roaring, soaring up to heaven as a symbol and a sign. Bring me knots of sunny maple, silver birch and tamarack.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
146
Robert Service
The Song Of The Camp Fire II
Gather round me, boy and grey-beard, frontiersman of every kind. Few are you, and far and lonely, yet an army forms behind: By your camp-fires shall they know you, ashes scattered to the wind. Peer into my heart of solace, break your bannock at my blaze; Smoking, stretched in lazy shelter, build your castles as you gaze.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
148
Robert Service
The Song Of The Camp Fire III
I am dying, O my masters! by my fitful flame ye sleep; My purple plumes of glory droop forlorn. Grey ashes choke and cloak me, and above the pines there creep The stealthy silver moccasins of morn. There comes a countless army, it's the Legion of the light.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
150
Robert Service
Her Letter
"I'm taking pen in hand this night, and hard it is for me; My poor old fingers tremble so, my hand is stiff and slow, And even with my glasses on I'm troubled sore to see... You'd little know your mother, boy; you'd little, little know.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
152
Robert Service
The Man Who Knew
The Dreamer visioned Life as it might be, And from his dream forthright a picture grew, A painting all the people thronged to see, And joyed therein--till came the Man Who Knew, Saying: "'Tis bad! Why do ye gape, ye fools! He painteth not according to the schools."
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
154
Robert Service
The Logger
In the moonless, misty night, with my little pipe alight, I am sitting by the camp-fire's fading cheer; On, the dew is falling chill on the dim, deer-haunted hill, And the breakers in the bay are moaning drear. The toilful hours are sped, the boys are long abed, And I alone a weary vigil keep.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
157
Robert Service
The Passing Of The Year
My glass is filled, my pipe is lit, My den is all a cosy glow; And snug before the fire I sit, And wait to feel the old year go. I dedicate to solemn thought Amid my too-unthinking days, This sober moment, sadly fraught With much of blame, with little praise.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
160
Robert Service
The Ghosts
Smith, great writer of stories, drank; found it immortalised his pen; Fused in his brain-pan, else a blank, heavens of glory now and then; Gave him the magical genius touch; God-given power to gouge out, fling Flat in your face a soul-thought--Bing! Twiddle your heart-strings in his clutch.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
168
Robert Service
Good-Bye, Little Cabin
O Dear little cabin, I've loved you so long, And now I must bid you good-bye! I've filled you with laughter, I've thrilled you with song, And sometimes I've wished I could cry. Your walls they have witnessed a weariful fight, And rung to a won Waterloo: But on, in my triumph I'm dreary to-night-- Good-bye, little cabin, to you!
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
170
Robert Service
Hear O' The North
And when I come to the dim trail-end, I who have been Life's rover, This is all I would ask, my friend, Over and over and over: A little space on a stony hill With never another near me.
Rhymes of a Rolling Stone
FC 11 S-63
171
Robert Service
The Scribe's Prayer
When from my fumbling hand the tired pen falls, And in the twilight weary droops my head; While to my quiet heart a still voice calls, Calls me to join my kindred of the Dead: Grant that I may, O Lord, ere rest be mine, Write to Thy praise one radiant, ringing line.
Riding With Jim: Adventures with Cowboys and Farriers: Stories and Cowboy Poetry
FC 11 N-13
5
Andy Nelson
A Politically Correct Cowboy Day
Too brazen and bold, or so I've been told, that my language is often perverse; With crude words leaking, I've changed my speaking, now it takes me all day to converse. So today I'll spend, trying not to offend, with the things that I do and say; As I ride and rope, I surely do hope, for a politically correct day.
Riding With Jim: Adventures with Cowboys and Farriers: Stories and Cowboy Poetry
FC 11 N-13
13
Andy Nelson
The Box R Cavvy
Ranch hands ran to the Box R cavvy, through the middle of town today; On a rain-covered asphalt street, in Wyoming, third week of May. It shocked my subconscious being, and my cowboy core came alive.