The Burial of Wild Bill

[Tame Bill #30699 Life]

Under the sod in the prairie-land

   We have laid him down to rest,

With many a tear from the sad, rough throng

   And the friends he loved the best ;

And many a heartfelt sigh was heard

   As over the earth we trod,

And many an eye was filled with tears

   As we covered him with the sod.

 

Under the sod in the prairie-land

   We have laid the good and the true—

An honest heart and a noble scout

   Has bade us a last adieu.

No more his silvery laugh will ring,

   His spirit has gone to God;

Around his faults let Charity cling

   While you cover him with the sod.

 

Under the sod in the land of gold

   We have laid the fearless Bill;

We called him Wild, yet a little child

   Could bend his iron will.

With generous heart he freely gave

   To the poorly clad, unshod—

Think of it, pards—of his noble traits—

   While you cover him with the sod.

 

Under the sod in Deadwood Gulch

   You have laid his last remains;

No more his manly form will hail

   The red man on the plains.

And, Charley, may Heaven bless you!

   You gave him a "bully good send;"

Bill was a friend to you, pard,

   And you were his last, best friend.

 

You buried him 'neath the old pine tree,

   In that little world of ours,

His trusty rifle by his side—

   His grave all strewn with flowers;

His manly form in sweet repose,

   That lovely silken hair

I tell you, pard, it was a sight,

   That face so white and fair!

 

And while he sleeps beneath the sod

   His murderer goes free,

Released by a perjured, gaming set,

    Who'd murder you and me—

Whose coward hearts dare never meet

   A brave man on the square.

Well, pard, they'll find a warmer clime

   Than they ever found out there.

 

Hell is full of just such men ;

   And if Bill is above to-day,

The Almighty will have enough to do

   To keep him from going away—

That is, from making a little scout

   To the murderers' home below;

And if old Peter will let him out,

   He can clean out the ranch, I know.

by John Wallace "Captain Jack" Crawford from   The Poet Scout: A Book of Song and Story , 1879