Omaha daily bee., 1896-01-25

word,
An | laughed tin my mouth spread from
To see that tenderfoot drop to the rear,
The first three miles slipped away first rate,
Then broncho began fur to lose his. gait;
But want oneasy, an didn't mind,
So / jogged along, with cowboy song,
Till all Of a student I heard that gong
A-ringin' a warnln, in my ear:
An lookin' back'ards ] seed the chump
OF a tenderfoot gaihin' every jump.
I hit oil broncho n cut wi the quirt,
An once more got i'm to scratchln' dirt;
But his wind seemed weak, an L tell you,
I seed that he wasn't no ten-mile boss,
Still the plucky brute TUX another shoot.
Rut he animal conu'dn't hold his gait,
An somehow the idea entered my. pate,
That If tenderfoot's legs didn't lose their
He'd own that boss at the end o. the trip.
Closer and closer come tenderfoot,
An harder the whip to the boss put;
But. the eastern cuss, with a smile on MS
Run up to my side with his easy pace;
Rode up to my side, an durn his hide, -,
Remarked 'twar a pleasant day fur a ride,
Then aXed, ,onconsarned, II had a match
An On his breechey give 1t q scratch,
Lit a cigarette, said he wished me good
An as fresh as a daisy, scooted away.
Ahead he went, that Internal gong
Arr'nglh, agood6y, as ne lev a a bac,s
Like n vapory smoker along the track.
on an on he sped, gettln' further, ahead,
His feet keepin' up that onceaSablc tread.
TIL he faded away in the distance, an VII n
| seed the condemned eastern rooster again,
He war thar with the boys at the end OF
That same keerless onconsarned smile on
his face.
Now, pard, wen a cowboy gifts beat he
don't sw'ar,
Nor kick, If the beaten are done on the
So l TUX that eastorner right By the hand.
An, told him that broncho awaited his
Then l axed i'm his Mans, an whar from
he came,
An how long he'd practiced the Wheel
Tom stevens, he said war his name, an he
come
FROM a town they call Bosting, in oil
Then he jist paralyaed us by sayin' he'd
That very identical wheel round the world.
Wal, pard, thar's the story O. how that
smart chap
Done me up, wen l thought 1 had SIGH a
Done me up on a race with remarkable
An lowered my pride a good many degrees;
Did I give i'm the hoss? WY, of course
An iii tell you it want no diminutive loss.
He writ me n letter from back In the east,
An said he's presented the, neat niue Deast
To n Teller named Pope, who stands at the
head
o. the ranch whar' the cussed wheel horses
ar bred.
The critic will say, Crawford matched
against Burns? Why. where can he show
lines to compare with the passage beginning,
Our pleasures are like peoples spread?'
For word painting the genius of Burns is
peerless. alone, | acknowledge that. Never
theless, l repeat. "Bronchc vs. Bicycle. is
today a competitor with Tam O'Shanter,"
and although it is unequal in some respects
It is superior in others.
Crawford, like Burns, was born in a
matched Gotta re, and he tells the story in
his own wild way. as follows:
THE COTTAGE WHERE l WAS BORN.
1t was only a cottage of thatch that day
When | came to the world with a yell,
The Attn of March, and l hear them say
That every donkey began to bray,
And the old Scotch parson said, Let us
All, weei; all, weel-ali's well.
That has grown. like myself, SO tall,
And memory tries so hard to trace
sad. sweet mile. and the girlish grace;
For she loved me best of all.
I see her now in her snowy cap, >
And her golden; curly hair,
And I. q wee, wild, barefoot chap,
And Away ready to set a trap
For any one who CHANGED to nap
In the arms of an easy chair.
All. well, God knows the better way;
He knows | was wicked and wild.
Her poor heart ached full many a day;
/ knew it not, / was full OF play;
But when we meet at the Judgment Day
She will say, "He was only a child"
If this is a long story. the dimensions of
its hero and the day we celebrate must be
the sufficient excuse. RANGER.