The Old Yaller Slicker

Arthur Chapman

The old yaller slicker’s the cowpuncher’s friend—
His saddle is never without it—
It’s rolled in a bundle and tied at each end,
But it’s ready for service, don’t doubt it.

When the sun bathes the hills in a dazzling flow
Across which the cloud shadows flicker,
Then the night-herd’s asleep, where the round-up tents show,
With his head on his old yaller slicker.

But in days when the rain drives aslant o’er the range,
And the far hills the storm king is hiding,
Then the old yaller slicker gleams ghostlike and strange
Where the tireless cowboy is riding.

Oh, it’s wrinkled and torn, and it never looks new—
In the town it would stir up a snicker—
But the style can go hang—it’s a friend tied and true,
is the cowpuncher’s old yaller slicker.

Next 10 Poems

• Arthur Chapman : The Old-timer
• Arthur Chapman : The Ostrich-punching Of Arroyo Al
• Geoffrey Chaucer : A Balade Of Complaint
• Geoffrey Chaucer : A Ballad Of Gentleness
• Geoffrey Chaucer : A Ballad Sent To King Richard
• Geoffrey Chaucer : Against Women Unconstant
• Geoffrey Chaucer : An Abc
• Geoffrey Chaucer : Anelida And Arcite
• Geoffrey Chaucer : Balade
• Geoffrey Chaucer : Book Of The Duchesse

Previous 10 Poems

• Arthur Chapman : The Old Dutch Oven
• Arthur Chapman : The Meeting
• Arthur Chapman : The High-heeled Boots
• Arthur Chapman : The Dude Ranch
• Arthur Chapman : The Cowboy's Homing
• Arthur Chapman : The Bunkhouse
• Arthur Chapman : Pete's Error
• Arthur Chapman : Out Where The West Begins
• Arthur Chapman : Out Among The Big Things
• Arthur Chapman : October On The Sheep Range