Campfire History 101

Campfire History 101

Dutch can spin tales, they’re always the best
One of my favorites is called Pony Express
While riding in the mountains, I think they were the Blues
I ran into Indians and I’m sure they were Sioux

I dug in my spurs and slapped my Bay on the rear
Skirting trees and low branches I was feeling some fear
Now Bay wasn’t a pony, he was old but still strong
He could run like the wind, but not all day long

Down through the washes and out cross the flat
I looked back to check them and lost my damn hat
Then Bay took a stumble, but didn’t go down
Maybe I’ll stop, I won’t run him to the ground

I eased back the reins and relaxed in my seat
The Indians slowed also, but did not retreat
I watched one in a head dress as he slowly came on
A proud man with hand up, showing his palm

As he rode up and stopped, then quietly spoke
I think he said wash day, was he making a joke
He then spoke some English, you need not defend
Wash day in Sioux means I welcome a friend

As I looked in his eyes, I said, “You gave quite a chase.”
He smiled and said that he thought it was a race
He waved the others over and explaining they laughed
They all praised my horse for being so fast

We sat through the day trading stories of the past
Built a fire to warm us as the night shadows cast
We shared water and jerky till late in the night
Went to bed with full bellies and things were alright

In the morning we shook hands and parted our ways
Wash day is friendship, it will last many days
As Bay broke to a gallop, a grin crossed my face
Cause I thought they would kill me, they thought it a race
By Phil Rider, Feb.1999