Omaha daily bee., 1896-01-25
The Poet Scout of the Border Compared with
scotland's Bard.
BOTH FEARED AMID SCoTlA'S HILLS
Sample Songs of Captain jack Crnw-
~ford-"Out West "Broncho and
the DicycIc." "Cottage
where I Was born,

@''N gN'N''S - - NV ~ NliNN 1ii'tN'
The girls are the pret,lest creatures on
earth
Out west;
Their beauty is distanced alone by their
worth
Out west.
The birds sit in wonder to hear their sweet
song.
Their gait is elastic, their muscles are
strong,
And they wear their shoe heels back where
Out west.
For husbands young widows do not adver-
Out west:
A new one is ready when 'tother one dies
And maidens who fear that as maids
they'll grow gray
Should go to that beautiful land right
Proposals would fly at them 'gteen times a
day
CAPTAIN JACK CRAWFORD.
The men who write such poetry as this are
not exceedingly common, even in this vast
"out west" and in fact they are so rare in
all portions Of our little world that men
and women everywhere delight to do them
honor.
Captain Jack Crawford, the Bobby Burns of
our wild frontier has been in Omaha a
few days this week. He is now enroute for
the cultured east" where his genius is
rapidly gaining for him a substantial literary
income, but we feel proud to- know that
Omaha, in fact The Omaha Bee, was the
first to place Captain Crawford's poetry in
type and introduce him to the world as a
poet and correspondent.
This was more than twenty years ago, and
nnuy ba has yicitp6 nc hripginu 1auralS oath
cred In tho great cities on both sides of the
Atlantic.
But a bullet-riddled hero Of rebel, Sioux
and Apache campaigns, a chief of scouts,
WHO has won the plaudits Of all his generals
and borne the palm from every competitor,
is a man we may well honor ourselves by
honoring, and all this and more is our is'tor,
Captain John w. Crawford Of Fort Craig,
New Mexico.
On this anniversary of Burns, the sweetest,
truest and most fearless CT poets, we nat
urally ask, is our poet of the Scottish
breed, and the answer Is yes, and he is
proud as any Scot OF that fact. His middle
name, Wallace, was his mothers, and it is
one that kings have borne in Aud Lang
Syne.
The captain gave me a gem in verse which
he had culled and carefully preserved. 1t
was written by Mrs. ]. Webb of New York
City in 1859, on seeing the notice Of the ap-
pointment of Rev. Henry Ward Beecher to
deliver an address before a Scottish society
in New York on the Tooth anniversary Of the
birth of Robert Burns.
Besides the charm of its poetic beauty 1t
has an especial interest in its prophetic al
fusion to a part of the subsequent history of
the distinguished American preacher,
BEECHER AND BURNS.
I learn the task has fa'en to you
To gle the bard of Ayr his due,
But use him weel,
And keep sweet charity in view
Zen for the Dell.
His few sma' faults We medina tell.
Folks say ye,re ma o'erGuid yersel',
But Dell may care;
Gin ye're but half as guild as Rab,
We ask nae mair.
Then dinna seek to find a flaw,
But Ger his faults a mantle thraw,
To Him who made and tried the heart,
He kens the best.
What may BETA, Yer bonnie SEP,
Some holy preacher
Ca'ed Harry Beecher.
I hae nae doubt ye'd like to ken
Wha' it's that takes the aud quill pen
To write this rhyme;
The knowledge wad be little worth,
I'm past my prime.
But when a lassie young and fair,
WI ,heartsome glee,
Fer fate's stern mandate sent me forth
Far Ger the sea.
Still scotia's hills and scotia's plains,
Her poets and her poets strains,
To me are dear,
A desert spring within my heart,
They claim a tear.
We of Omaha are to have a treat of an
evenings entertainment of song and story
by our own poet of the west, some evening
not many months hence, and meanwhile
The Bee will print in every Sundays issue
some valuable original poetry or prose from
the pen Of this now famous man of the
frontier.
In the east and in England Captain Craw-
ford's "Broncho Versus Bicycle" Is repeated
by school children. and it has every sort OF
publication until it is becoming as much Of a
chestnut as the Heather Chinee,' "Sheri-
dams Ride Alabama Coon" but I do not
recall seeing it in any Nebraska paper. If
1t had been in every one 1t would still be
worthy of a place, and at any time, as long
as bronchos and bicycles are in existence,
and as this is. par excellence, the poets day
we place in competition with Tam O'Shan-
ter" this work Of our rhymesmith.
BRONCO VS. BICYCLE.
The first we saw o. the heightened tramp
War over thar at our Pecos camp;
Astrlde of a wheel, with a crooked tail.
A-skinnin' along, with a merry song,
Az , Gingin' "a a little na,l n waTnin' 1 gSng; an. o,oor
That all Of us grinned from ear to ear,
An every boy on the roundup swore
He had never seed SIGH a boss afore.
Wal, up he rode, with a sunshine smile,
a cigarette, an I'll
BE kicked in the neck if / ever seen
Sich a saddle as that on his queer machine.
Why, II made us laugh, fur 1t wasn't half
Big enough fur the back of a suckin' calf.
He TUX our fun in a keerless way,
A-yenturin' only once to say
Thar wasn't a broncho about the place
Could down that wheel In a ten-mile race.
I'd a lightnin' broncho out in the herd
That could split the air like a iyin' bird,
An / limited round in an of-hand way
That pervidin' the enterprise'd pay,
/ thought as l might jest happen to light
On a boss that'd leave him out o. sight.
In less'n a second we seed him yank
A roll o. greenbacks out o. his flank,
An he said, If we wanted a bet, to name
The limit, an he would tackle the game.
Just a week afore we had all been down
On a jamboree to the nearest town,
An the whisky joints, an the faro games,
An shakin' our hoofs wi the dance house
danes,
Made a wholesale bust; an. pard, I'll be
cussed
If a man in the outfit had any dust;
An so 1 explained, but the youth replied |
That he'd lay the money matter aside.
An to show that his back didn't grow no
moss, |
He'd bet his machine agin my boss.
| TUX him I'D. an the bet war closed. |