On The Range Poem by Henry Herbert Knibbs

My pony was standin' thinkin' deep;
Can hosses think? Well, I reckon so!
And I was squattin', half asleep,
When into the firelight stepped a Bo.

He grinned in a kind of friendly way;
He ate some grub and he rolled a smoke.
I sort of listened for him to say
What was comin'—and this is how he spoke:

'Oh, the world is good and her towns are good,
And so are her folks, if understood.
Hay-foot, straw-foot, left and right,
Over the next hill, out of sight,
Rambling everywhere, day and night,
And plenty of things to see;

'For the world is good and her folks are good,
And all of 'em like to be understood,
From the rich man ridin' his limousine
To the guy that is hit by the big machine,
And the thousand or so that are in between,
Clear down to a Bo, like me.

'All you have to do is cast your eye
On the sun or the stars, without askin' why,
Or the moon there, rollin' above the line;
She don't crowd the stars but she lets 'em shine:
And pal, don't you think they are doin' fine,
All helpin' to make the show?

'An we all got passes to go and see
All there is—and all there is goin' to be.
Hay-foot and straw-foot, left and right,
And I'm usin' my pass both day and night,
And she's good for the whole show. Get me right?
And I'm nothin' except a Bo;

'Yes, the coarsest siftin' of the lot.
Now imagine the chance that best has got.
Sure there ain't no medals stuck on my vest,
But I would n't change with the gilt-edged best,
And when it come time to lie down and rest,
Well I guess it will come right good;

'But somehow, or somehow to me, it seems
That that pass is good where they make the dreams.
Say, maybe we'll see it all over again,
The wind and the sun and the snow and the rain,
And old friends and places, and see 'em plain,
And all of 'em understood.

I was punchin' then for the old Tejon.
I reckon I won't forget that night,
Or the Bo and me by the fire alone,
With nothin' but sand and sage in sight.