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Old Mates O’ Mine

Edward S. Sorenson

I wonder oft where they are to-day,
    Old mates o’ mine,
Who roamed with me out to Faraway,
When the hills were green or the plains were grey,
On the cattle trails with the old jackshay,
    In rain and shine.

Some come to me in the afterglow,
    Old mates o’ mine;
Or seem to look from the long ago,
Big Tom and Harry and Jack and Joe,
Amid the smoke when the fire is low
    And nights are fine.

The far ways held them that bronzed their backs,
    Old mates o’ mine;
And ever they turned with their saddle-packs,
When droving took them down eastern tracks,
Back to the joys of their western shacks
    Among the pine.

They rode and roughed in the sunset blocks,
    Old mates o’ mine,
By sun and stars with the herds and flocks;
And though life’s way was bestrewn with rocks,
With a grim resolve they would take their knocks,
    And never whine.

The Tears that scattered them far and wide,
    Old mates o’ mine,
Passed some, no doubt, o’er the Great Divide;
But still they camp on the western side,
Above, beneath, where they used to ride
    ‘Mong the porcupine.

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