It was a dog barkin’
That drew me further on
Down along the river strong runnin’
From another fierce winter’s
High mountain melt-off
Now disappearin’ in
Warm spring air
.
And I spied me an
Old man along the shore -
Near a bank a’ sand and gravel
Where water churned fierce-like
From three crotchety sources -
Messin’ with a line a flumes
And a tiny bucket dredge
.
I figure, kinda high-tech fur
A rock-ribbed sourdough searchin’
Out flour-gold to bake his dreams, or
Any kinda flakes, grains, or nuggets,
With radiant sun yellow texture,
To fill his rusted coffee tin
.
And there weren’t
Ner a soul anywhere
Just him, an ornery mule,
And an old shaggy tan hound
Workin’ alone where the air and
Water was pure, and troubles of life
Was like poofy driftin’ thumb-faeries,
And he was singin’spirited-like
A song I’d never heerd:
.
‘I can rastle bars
And kick skunks ta the moon,”
I can lasso a twister
And use it fur a straw
I can surf the hurricane
And throw rocks sixty mile
And I can scratch on the fiddle
Till the young girls faint
.
Cause I’m the man,
Can’t help how I am
I’m the man,
Not you
I’m the man
Can’t help what I do
I’m the man,
Not you
.
I can punch a mountain
And turn it inta gravel
And I can stop the volcany
From belchin’ its gruel
I can reach down deep holes
And pull back a dragon
And I can squeeze the coal
Till the diamond turns blue’
.
And when the chorus come agin
I joined in and sang along with him,
Loud as all get out, and the hound’s ears
Went up like a jackrabbits as he spied me quick
Sittin’ like I owned the place and he began howlin’
And carryin’ on like he wanted some leg bone but
The old whitebeard wacked his head a goodun’
And he stopped and then he waved me over
Fur a cup a’ Joe and (I prolly figgered)
Some tall tales ‘bout his life…
.
richard lloyd cederberg
2018
          Lambs Players Theatre