Her tall and lanky father, one knows as "Sleepy Jim," Is now addressed as Colonel by men who honor him; And youths in finest raiment now take him by the paw, Each in the hope that some day he'll call him dad-in-law. Their days of toil are over, their sun has risen at last, A gold-embroidered curtain now hides their rocky past; For was it not discovered their little patch of soil Had rested there for ages above a flow of oil? _James Barton Adams._ THE GLORY TRAIL '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.