GREETINGS FROM THE BORDER-LAND
Here’s greetings from the Border-land
Where the wind blows to beat the band,
O’er valleys fair and mountains high
Kissed by the sun from a cloudless sky.
Where the soldier boy with his ready gun
Tramps the desert under a scorching sun.
Yes, this is the land where the cacti grow
And the long-eared burro tries to crow.
Where the centipede walks on a hundred legs
And the rattlesnake lays its soft-shelled eggs
The tarantula too, and vinagroon
Bask in the sunshine and lazily roam
Over the rocks and through the sand
Away out here on the Border-land.
By the Poet-Lariat
(Copyright Sept. 1916 by Jos. T. Grant)
(Editor’s Note: See Postal from Camp Cotton, Texas 9/15/1916)