They lie beneath the desert sands-
Location? No man knows...
If they could speak, what tales they’d tell-
Of triumphs and of woes.
Of love, adventure, thirst for gain-
To win some maidens hand.
But all those dreams have vanished now
Beneath the shifting sands.
Perhaps a life of luxury,
Forsaken in the East-
Adventure’s guidon led them West,
Until the journey ceased..
Was it an arrow, rifle ball,
Perhaps Apache lance?
That served to lay this traveler low
And hasten death’s advance.
Perhaps by night he lost his course-
Upon the trackless sand-
And first the desert slew his horse
And finally the man.
Perhaps he crossed a swollen stream-
Or almost did...I guess.
And drowned beneath the muddy foam,
And thus resigned his quest.
Or did his pony slip and fall-
Perhaps to break his leg..
And slow and painful his demise,
Did he for mercy beg?
The list goes on and on-
The tales unsung of western men,
Oh, for those talking bones!
Live large, people!