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    'WAY high up the Mogollons,[1]

    Among the mountain tops,

    A lion cleaned a yearlin's bones

    And licked his thankful chops,

    When on the picture who should ride,

    A-trippin' down the slope,

    But High-Chin Bob, with sinful pride

    And mav'rick-hungry rope.

    _"Oh, glory be to me," says he,

    "And fame's unfadin' flowers!

    All meddlin' hands are far away;

    I ride my good top-hawse today

    And I'm top-rope of the Lazy J--

    Hi! kitty cat, you're ours!"_

    That lion licked his paw so brown

    And dreamed soft dreams of veal--

    And then the circlin' loop sung down

    And roped him 'round his meal.

    He yowled quick fury to the world

    Till all the hills yelled back;

    The top-hawse gave a snort and whirled

    And Bob caught up the slack.

    _"Oh, glory be to me," laughs he.

    "We hit the glory trail.

    No human man as I have read

    Darst loop a ragin' lion's head,

    Nor ever hawse could drag one dead

    Until we told the tale."_

    'Way high up the Mogollons

    That top-hawse done his best,

    Through whippin' brush and rattlin' stones,

    From canyon-floor to crest

    But ever when Bob turned and hoped

    A limp remains to find,

    A red-eyed lion, belly roped

    But healthy, loped behind.

    _"Oh, glory be to me," grunts he,

    "This glory trail is rough,

    Yet even till the Judgment Morn

    I'll keep this dally 'round the horn,

    For never any hero born

    Could stoop to holler: 'nuff!'"_

    Three suns had rode their circle home

    Beyond the desert's rim,

    And turned their star herds loose to roam

    The ranges high and dim;

    Yet up and down and round and 'cross

    Bob pounded, weak and wan,

    For pride still glued him to his hawse

    And glory drove him on.

    _"Oh, glory be to me," sighs he.

    "He kaint be drug to death,

    But now I know beyond a doubt

    Them heroes I have read about

    Was only fools that stuck it out

    To end of mortal breath."_

    'Way high up the Mogollons

    A prospect man did swear

    That moon dreams melted down his bones

    And hoisted up his hair:

    A ribby cow-hawse thundered by,

    A lion trailed along,

    A rider, ga'nt, but chin on high,

    Yelled out a crazy song.

    _"Oh, glory be to me!" cries he,

    "And to my noble noose!

    O stranger, tell my pards below

    I took a rampin' dream in tow,

    And if I never lay him low,

    I'll never turn him loose!"_

                       _Charles Badger Clark._

[1] Pronounced by the natives "muggy-yones."