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This is a part of the "Bardk Poetry * Working Cowboy Lifestyle" page maintained and operated by David Kelley, Allen, Texas, Cowboy Poet. This page is still coming around, so check in from time to time, and don't forget to go back to the home page, and sign in on my GUEST BOOK.

Bette Wolf Duncan zoomed into the "Cowboy Poetry" field on the wings of eagles. I for one am really glad she did. Don't miss her web pages, and you can get to those pages, by clicking on the links page of my site. I think you'll agree, this poem is a fine example of the poetry Bette writes. I'll soon have a bio and perhaps a picture of this fine poet. Check back with us soon.


(The Legend Of Earl Durand)

The mountain moon's a ridin' on the stallion of the night;
with snowflakes softly glidin' down its flowing mane of light.
The midnight winds are siftin' through the driftin' flakes of snow;
and you can hear 'em whistlin' through the pine trees as they blow

Some think my trail's a lonely one...without a soul in sight;
with no one there t' talk to save the wailin' winds of night.
But what I am's a mountain man.I do jus' fine out here.
I've mostly slept beneath the sky. I feed on elk and deer.

Good friends, these mountains are t' me.....the kindest ones I've known;
and when I'm in these mountains, I 'm never quite alone.
I like t' hear the whisperin’ of a gentle mornin' breeze;
and listen t' the birdsong that's pourin' from the trees

A posse's out there after me with bullets by the score.
But they won't take this mountain man like they did before.
I've gotta keep on ridin' now, and hidin' from the law....
avoidin' men, evading them-holed up in some dark draw.
I killed game outta season, but the reason for my flight
is, when they jailed me for it, I killed a guard one night.

I couldn't breath...I couldn't think.....went crazy in that cell.
It stripped me of my reason; and delivered me t' hell.
No longer was I human, but an animal confined;
without the human faculties that bless the human mind.

A mountain man is what I am....unfettered, wild and free.
and nevermore will prison bars mock the man in me.
Nor will they hang this mountain man. Of this I'm sure for I've
resolved that they will never take this mountain man alive.

And when their bullets find me as their bullets surely will
a free, unfettered mountain man is what they're gonna kill.
The mountain moon's a ridin' on the stallion of the night;
with snowflakes softly slidin' down its silvery tail of light.
When I am dead and buried and this flight from terror ends,
I'll mount that coal-black stallion and rejoin my mountain friends.

Bette Wolf Duncan
copyright 2000