For his lifestory, go to Darlis A. Miller's Captain Jack Crawford, Buckskin Poet, Scout, and Showman (1993).
For his poetry, go to Jack Crawford's own The Poet Scout: Verses and Songs, published 1886.
Vintage Colorado Poetry
December 25, 2005
Last Christmas day, I remember it well--
And I reckon I'll still remember--
When emigration began to swell,
Though our chances war mighty slender,
A band of as bully men, by Jove,
As ever struck out a-trailing',
Struck for the Hills ter hunt for gold,
With bull teams just a-sailing'.
And I war guide of the outfit, pards ;
Ye see, I'd been thar before,
When we struck it rich on Calamity Bar,
So I struck for the Bar once more.
But I'll never forget when crossin' the Platte,
And the ice in the middle gave way,
And down went our wagons, bulls and all--
Pards, that war last Christmas day.
Ye see, it war only a mile across--
Wall, that ain't much out thar--
But the boys kinder left it ter me, bein' boss,
As ter whether the ice would bear ;
So I reckoned as how I thought it would,
And we started--gee whoa--right away ;
But she cracked like an old cook's kettle, she did--
Pards, that war last Christmas day.
Who cuss'd? Oh, no, pards, I never swar,
But just about that ar' time
There wasn't much poetry in my head--
I couldn't a-spun a rhyme--
Ye see, the quicksands war orful bad,
And none of us felt very gay ;
'Cause we had ter wade and carry our grub--
Pards, that war last Christmas day.
And now while I'm ridin' on cushion seats,
With nothin' to worry or fret,
By thunder! I almost wish I war back
A-courtin' my bride, my pet ;
I mean my "Winchester," bully old gal--
And the reds will keep out of her way ;
She dropped a buck weighin' three hundred pounds--
Pards, that war last Christmas day.
--Captain Jack Crawford,
(Late Chief of Scouts, U.S. Army)
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