Crossing The Divide Poem by James W Foley

Parson, I'm a maverick, just runnin' loose an' grazin',
Eatin' where's th' greenest grass an' drinkin' where I choose;
Had to rustle in my youth an' never had no raisin';
Was n't never halter broke an' I ain't much to lose;
Used to sleepin' in a bag an' livin' in a slicker;
Church folks never branded me -- I don't know as they tried;
Wish you'd say a prayer for me an' try to make a dicker
For the best they'll give me when I cross the Big Divide.

Tell 'em I ain't corralled a night in more 'n twenty;
Tell 'em I'm rawboned an' rough an' ain't much for looks;
Tell 'em I don't need much grief because I've had a-plenty;
I don't know how bad I am 'cause I ain't kept no books.
Tell 'em I'm a maverick a-runnin' loose unbranded;
Tell 'em I shoot straight an' quick an' ain't got much to hide;
Have 'em come an' size me up as soon as I get landed,
For the best they'll give me when I cross the Great Divide

Tell 'em I rode straight an' square an' never grabbed for leather;
Never roped a crippled steer or rode a sore-backed horse;
Tell 'em I've bucked wind an' rain an' every sort of weather,
Had my tilts with A. K. Hall an' Captain R. E. Morse.
Don't hide nothin' from 'em, whether it be sweet or bitter,
Tell 'em I'll stay on th' range, but if I'm shut outside
I'll abide it like a man because I ain't no quitter;
I ain't going to change just when I cross th' Bigt Divide

Tell 'em, when th' Roundup comes for all us human critters,
Just corral me with my kind an' run a brand on me;
I don't want to be corralled with hypocrites an' quitters;
Brand me just for what I am -- an' I'm just what you see.
I don't want no steam-het stall or bran-mash for my ration;
I just want to meet th' boss an' face him honest-eyed,
Show him just what chips I got an' shove 'em in for cashin';
That's what you can tell 'em when I cross the Big Divide.