Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By Robert CameronRogers1489 A Health at the Ford
B
Sucking up the water that goes tugging at his knees;
High noon and dry noon,—to-day it doesn’t seem
As if the country ever knew the blessing of a breeze.
A torn felt hat with the brim cockled up,
A dip form the saddle—there you are—
It ’s the brew of old Snake River in a cowboy’s drinking-cup—
At the ford of Deadman’s Bar.
A health to the life that makes living worth a try;
A long drink, a deep drink, it ’s bumpers, Dan, you know;
No heel-taps now, old pony, you must drink the river dry!
Here ’s to her then,—every sunrise knows her name,
I ’ve given it away to every star;
Cold water in a hat! Pretty tough, but what of that?—
It ’s the best—at Deadman’s Bar.
By the broad Pacific where your widened waters pour,
Old Snake River, take a message down for me,
Tell the waves that sing to her along the Southern Shore;
Say that I ’m a-rustling, though the trail that leads to wealth
Is mighty hard to find and dim and far,
But tell her that I love her, and say I drank her health
To-day at Deadman’s Bar.”