Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1921-08-06
THE TALE OF THE HILLS
BY BADGER CLARK.

God made our Black Hills country toward the last.
The plains spread like mighty tapestries,
Green brown, white as changing seasons passed,
shadeess and fiat and endless as the
Fair the prairie; fair it stiil appears
But firing of those endless, flat domains,
God built island in the of plains
And kept it for Himself ten thousand years
He built the scuIptured peaks and canyon walls,
And painted them in red and brown and gray;
lie planned a thousand springs and waterfalls
And sent the clear creeks gislening on their way.
lie sowed the red barked pine trees everywhere,
With aspen, birch and spruce along the streams
And Aower-hecked mountain meadows here and there
Such old saint pictures in his dreams
God made this island in the sea of plains
And kept it for Himself ten thousand years,
Free of mans labor and battle stains
And clean of human blood and human tears
The lazy eagle circIed in the blue;
The rough bear dozed in peace before his den;
The dainty deer stepped through the morning dew
But there sight or sound Of men
The prairie red men watched the far blue peaks
Where often clouds gathered fold fold
And lightning laced the gloom in dartng streaks
And down the echong canyons thunder rolled.
The Thunder Hawk lives there the red men cried,
And fed across the prairie sod.
So, through the ages the mountain side,
The pine trees sang their song alone to God.
Then, from the eastern land, the white man came
Driven by high desire and restless blood.
Ill to the prairies laid his lordy claim,
And fought the red there to make it good.
Far on the plains the dust cloud and the FIRE
Marked the long trails the conquering white made,
But still no iron hoof or wagon tire
Rang on the rocks within the canyons shade.
Yet in the end the chosen time came round
And then up Castle Creek, summer day,
An eager line of blue clad troopers wound
While gallant, fated Custer led the way
And soon upon the site of Custer Town
The gray past of the lonely mountain land
Changed TO a shining future of renown
Bright as the golden grains in Rosss hand,
Gold Our great blessing curse, or what you WILL
But curse blessing, most desired.
Gold The word seemed to leap from hill to hill
And down the plains, like signal cannon fired
God built our mountain land in love and pride
And kept it locked and barred ten thousand years.
Then with that word He flung His bars aside
And inward sormed the Black Hills Pioneers.
They were breed that feared no Thunder Bird,
Nor ghost nor imp northing of mortal breath.
Wild with the music of that magic word,
They laughed at Sioux and soldier, storm aud death.
Gold And the timber wolf at close Of day
Shifted the camp smoke with uneasy whines.
Gold And the mountain lion dropped his prey
To hear the ring among the pines.
And so its ancient ways changed for new
This mountain island under prairie skies,
The dread throne of the Indians Manitou,
The daring white mans last and dearest prize.
Then from the Hills stream took its course;
In of golden wealth it richly ran,
Millions of gold from that first tiny source
The doubtful yellow CLEANS in Ross's pan.
For more than forty years that stream has rolled
Strange food that started here in Rosss pan
Feeding our country's wealth with yellow gold
Swelling at last the worldwide wealth of man
Ana here in Clusters city
TO dedicate these stones that tell the tale,
Lest coming generations should forget
Ross and the who followed his trail
Hail to our Pioneers, who played the game
In sweat and blood until they won the stake
A land worth winning for its golden fame,
A home worth holding for its sweet sake.
Yes, to the true Black Hitler of today
The gleam of Black Hills sunlight through the pines
And on the towering rim rocks will assay
As high any metal from the minesl
Hail to these stately Hills we now possess,
Their towns and ranches stored with worldly goods
Their gulches full of holy quietness
Where God still walks among the pney woods!
Proudly we call them South Dakotas crown,
But when we leave their blessed shades to roam
And homesck longing dogs up and down.
We name them in our hearts the Hills of Home