The Cowboy and Coyote.
Badger Clark. The Pacific Monthly, April 1915.
And the draws are dim and still,
I can hear the coyote wailin’
In the shadows by the hill—
With a lonely sort o’ feelin’
Through the dusk it comes a-stealin’
Down to me.
You ‘re my pet abomination,
You old skulker of the dark,
But we’re pards in isolation
And our tastes are sim’lar—hark!
Though your cry is weird and skeery
Yet there’s somethin’ in it cheery,
Wild and free.
We dont care what stocks are mopin’
Or how much the trusts have sinned.
While we’re free to range the open,
See the stars and feel the wind—
We aint plagued with arts and graces
In these big, forsaken spaces,
You and me.