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AFTER THE COMANCHES
by Unknown

Saddle! saddle! saddle!
Mount, mount, and away!
Over the dim green prairie,
Straight on the track of day;
Spare not spur for mercy,
Hurry with shout and thong,
Fiery and tough is the mustang,
The prairie is wide and long.
Saddle! saddle! saddle!
Leap from the broken door,
Where the brute Comanche entered,
And the white-foot treads no more!
The hut is burnt to ashes,
There are dead men stark outside,
And only a long torn ringlet
Left of the stolen bride.
Go like the east wind's howling,
Ride with death behind,
[580]
Stay not for food or slumber,
Till the thieving wolves ye find!
They came before the wedding,
Swifter than prayer or priest;
The bride-men danced to bullets,
The wild dogs ate the feast.
Look to rifle and powder,
Buckle the knife-belt sure;
Loose the coil of the lasso,
And make the loop secure;
Fold the flask in the poncho,
Fill the pouch with maize,
And ride as if to-morrow
Were the last of living days.
Saddle! saddle! saddle!
Redden spur and thong,
Ride like the mad tornado,
The track is lonely and long,
Spare not horse nor rider,
Fly for the stolen bride!
Bring her home on the crupper,
A scalp on either side.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg