His range is on the mountain high
Where the Rimrock meets the sky.
He scorns the haunts and paths of men
The confines of corral or pen.
Nature gave him all his need
And courage more than other breeds.
The wild's grim lessons well he heeds,
This dauntless mountain ranger.
Fleet of foot on mountain trails
With eagle eye that seldom fails
To warn him of the hunter's snare,
Or other dangers lurking there.
Scenting danger drawing nigh
To safety he will quickly hide,
Knowing careless ones soon die
When sharp claws rip or steep slugs fly.
Russet coat all trimmed with white,
A noble and inspiring sight'
He stands his guard amongst the crags
Surrounded by nature's grandeur.
Motionless with curling horns
Gleaming in the morning
All alert to flee or flight
Or to his pastures wander.
Vigilant and cunning he
Roams the Rockies strong and free.
There eagles soar where canyons yawn
And creeks down tumble dizzily.
Ever watchful he must be,
Danger to scent or to see,
Or his day will not be long
In haunts of cat and grizzly.
When nature gives time worn command
Against his peers his needs must stand
In sharp horned lusty battle,
With courage proud and temper grand.
Rings crash of horns in mountain land
All his efforts singly bound.
He falter not to stand his ground
Amidst the onslaughts rattle.
It is the law of nature's way
The victory on that fateful day
Is given only to the strong;
The weakling's reign is not for long.
Dame Nature counts not words but deeds,
So from here children's ranks she weeds,
Those who have not the strength to stay
In life's swift race and ruthless fray.
When life is new and instinct dim,
To take the sun, a careless lamb
Willfully wanders from his dam.
An eagle swoops with lightening speed;
The careless one is eaglets' feed.
It is the law of claw and fang
That each may take his daily need.
Some big horns meet a far worse doom —
A regal head hangs in a room
Where so called sportsmen brag and boast
As drinks are passed by jovial host.
They tell of wild things they have killed,
Not on a journey huger-filled,
Nor in a fight their lives to hold,
But just by lust for slaughter willed.
As the appointed seasons run,
The ranger knows the kindly sun,
The knife edged chill of winter's blast,
When waning days of fall are done,
He faces life and holds it fast
Knowing the Storm King's anger gone,
The fragrant spring will come at last
With pastures green to browse upon.
Ho' valiant king of top most crag
And Lord of deepest canyon,
Admired by all the mountain breed
Who know and love your kingdom,
May you be spared from trophy men
And all their boon companions.
I wish you this my ranger friend —
To live and die in freedom.
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