A Health at the Ford

Broncho dan halts midway of the stream, 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. “Now for a toast, a health before we go,— 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. “Where Summer camps all the year by the sea, 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.”