They had the bark on,
They had the hair of the bear,
Hawken, Arkansas Toothpick, and Possibles
Bag in hand,
Lock, stock, and barrel on their
back,
Cantankerous Mule or Cayuse begrudged
company perhaps,
On their own hook, beholding to none,
Trod the high country, lonely Mesa,
easy waters, nigh an far…..
Forsaking foofarraw and gewgaws for buckskin, moccasin and buffalo robe,
Cache for winter, pemmican, jerky, vice on others rely,
Not a flash in the pan rather curly wolves each one,
Holding no truck for palaver, Lobos or Loco in flatlanders view,
Preferring the call of Redtailed Hawk,
Echoing mournfully cross snow covered peaks…..
A course to avoid the scalp pole,
From the Shinning Mountains to Santa Fe Trail to the Green River,
Fur Country, wide and far, untouched by mud hooks, trapper's delight,
O'er dead fall, thicket, pinnacles rise,
Through that considered trouble by most,
The mountain man views,
The Pass leading to the Yellow Moon…..
