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THE OLD SCOUT'S LAMENT Come all of you, my brother scouts, and join me in a song Come let us sing together, though the shadows be long Of all the old frontiersmen that used to scout the plain There are but few of them that with us remain Day after day they're dropping off; they're going one by one Our clan is fast decreasing; our race is almost run There were many of our number that never wore the blue But faithfully they did their part as brave men, tried and true They never joined the army, but had other works to do In piloting the coming folks, to help them safely through But brothers, we are falling; our race is almost run The day of elk and buffalo and beaver traps is gone Oh, the days of elk and buffalo! It fills my heart with pain To know those days are past and gone, to never come again We fought the redskin rascals over valley, hill and plain We fought him in the mountaintops and fought him down again Those fighting days are over; no Indian yells resound No more along the border; Peace sends for sweeter sounds But we found great joy, old comrades, to hear and make it die We won great homes for gentle ones And now, our West -- Goodbye @nostalgia @aging @American filename[ OLDSCOUT JN oct96 |
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