Volume 10 — THE BALLAD OF GRIZZLY GULCH[1]

The rocks are rough, the trail is tough, The forest lies before, As madly, madly to the hunt Rides good King Theodore With woodsmen, plainsmen, journalists And kodaks thirty-four. The bob-cats howl, the panthers growl, "He sure is after us!" As by his side lopes Bill, the Guide, A wicked-looking cuss— "Chee-chee!" the little birds exclaim, "Ain't Teddy stren-oo-uss!" Though dour the climb with slip and slime, King Ted he doesn't care, Till, cracking peanuts on a rock, Behold, a Grizzly Bear! King Theodore he shows his teeth, But he never turns a hair. "Come hither, Court Photographer," The genial monarch saith, "Be quick to snap your picture-trap As I do yon Bear to death." "Dee-lighted!" cries the smiling Bear, As he waits and holds his breath. Then speaks the Court Biographer, And a handy guy is he, "First let me wind my biograph, That the deed recorded be." "A square deal!" saith the patient Bear, With ready repartee. And now doth mighty Theodore For slaughter raise his gun; A flash, a bang, an ursine roar— The dready deed is done! And now the kodaks thirty-four In chorus click as one. The big brown bruin stricken falls And in his juices lies; His blood is spent, yet deep content Beams from his limpid eyes. "Congratulations, dear old pal!" He murmurs as he dies. From Cripple Creek and Soda Springs, Gun Gulch and Gunnison, A-foot, a-sock, the people flock To see that deed of gun; And parents bring huge families To show what they have done. In the damp corse stands Theodore And takes a hand of each, As loud and long the happy throng Cries, "Speech!" again and "Speech!" Which pleaseth well King Theodore, Whose practice is to preach. "Good friends," he says, "lead outdoor lives And Fame you yet may see— Just look at Lincoln, Washington, And great Napoleon B.; And after that take off your hats And you may look at me!" But as he speaks, a Messenger Cries, "Sire, a telegraft!" The king up takes the wireless screed Which he opens fore and aft, And reads: "The Venezuelan stew Is boiling over. TAFT." Then straight the good King Theodore In anger drops his gun And turns his flashing spectacles Toward high-domed Washington. "O tush!" he saith beneath his breath, "A man can't have no fun!" Then comes a disappointed wail From every rock and tree. "Good-by, good-by!" the grizzlies cry And wring their handkerchee. And a sad bob-cat exclaims, "O drat! He never shot at me!" So backward, backward from the hunt The monarch lopes once more. The Constitution rides behind And the Big Stick rides before (Which was a rule of precedent In the reign of Theodore).