THE BALLAD OF JOHNNY O'DELL


ild are the tales of the Pony Express
And most of them are true if I don't miss my guess.
But wildest of all tales that they tell
Is that of fearless young Johnny O'Dell.

Johnny was little, but he was a man
Whom none could outride, outshoot or outplan.
Ride, he could ride anything that could run
And could outdo any man with a gun.

Back in those days there were men in the West
And Johnny O'Dell was as good as the best.
Only the bravest could carry the mail
Through terrible dangers that haunted the trail.

Dangers there were on the night I describe,
For Johnny encountered an Indian tribe.
Blackie, his horse, gave a new burst of speed.
No Indian pinto could equal that steed.

Bullets and arrows whizzed over his head
As into the foe and right through them he sped.
Outlaws had raided the station ahead
The horses were stolen, his partner was dead.

Onward went Johnny over the trail.
For such was the life when you carry the mail
Rivers they forded for bridges there were none
While crossing one stream he was stopped by a gun.

"Halt!" cried a man on the bank of the creek-
As together they fired by the light of the sun.
Still lay the stranger whom Johnny had met,
For all that I know he is lying there yet.

Onward went Johnny into the West,
As a spot of crimson appeared on his vest.
Together they continued their hazardous ride,
The powerful horse with the brave man astride.

Into the town of Red Gulch did they go,
As blotches of blood marked their way through the snow.
This was the end of the perilous trail
Through bullets, and arrows; through blizzards and hail

. Johnny dismounted and cried with a wail,
"Oh, Darn it all, I've forgotten the mail!"


Old Chiefs Sons


ong ago, there was a small Indian (Native American) village.
In this village lived an Old Chief with his two sons, Running Deer
and Falling Rock. This village was situated deep in the Wilderness,
next to a Babbling Brook, Above a Waterfall.

The Old Chief, knowing he would not live forever, decided it was
time to choose one of his sons to take his place when the time came
to pass on. "But, which one?" pondered the Old Chief. And he devised
a plan: Running Deer and Falling Rock were sent off into the Wilderness,
far from the village-next to the Babbling Brook, Above the Waterfall.
The Old Chief had told the lads, "The one of you who is able to live out
longest in the Wilderness will take my place as Chief."

Much time passed. The Old Chief feared the worst, and began to worry.
"How long will it be before the return of Running Deer and Falling Rock?"
thought the Old Chief. Soon after, a member of the tribe announced the
approach of the beloved son, Running Deer. The Old Chief was very happy,
and threw a grand celebration. For his first son, Running Deer had returned
to the village - next to the Babbling Brook, Above the Waterfall. The ordeal
was over, and scouts were sent out into the Wilderness to find and return
Falling Rock to his village, where he would become Chief someday.

Many moons went by (as happens in Native American stories). The Old Chief,
now passed on (sorry), never saw the return of his younger son, Falling Rock.
Falling Rock has never returned from the Wilderness to his village-next to the
Babbling Brook, Above the Waterfall. His brother, Running Deer, still looks for him.

We know this because, all along the highways and byways of United States,
we still see the signs WATCH_FOR_FALLING_ROCK


Good Memory


n Australian travel writer touring Canada was
checking out of the Spokane Hilton, and as he paid
his bill, to the manager, he asked, "By the way,
what's with the Indian chief sitting in the lobby
all the time? He's been there ever since I arrived."

"Oh that's 'Big Chief Forget-me Not'," said the manager.
"The hotel is built on an Indian reservation, and
part of the agreement is to allow the Chief free use
of the premises for the rest of his life.
He is known as 'Big Chief Forget-me Not' because of his
phenomenal memory. He is 92 and can remember the
slightest detail of his life."

The travel writer took this in, and as he was waiting for
his cab decided to put the chief's memory to the test.
"'ello, mate!" said the Aussie, receiving only a slight
nod in return. "What did you have for breakfast on your
21st birthday?"
"Eggs," was the chief's instant reply, without even
looking up, and indeed the Aussie was impressed. He went
off on his travel writing itinerary, right across to the
east coast and back, telling others others of Big Chief
Forget-Me-Not's great memory. (One local noted to him
that 'How' was a more appropriate greeting for an Indian
Chief than ''ello mate.')

On his return to the Spokane Hilton six months later was
surprised to see 'Big Chief Forget-me Not' still sitting
in the lobby, fully occupied with whittling away on a stick.

"How" said the Aussie.

"Scrambled," said the Chief.


Little Rabbit Froo Froo


ittle Rabbit Froo Froo, hopping thru the forest, scooping
up the field mice and bopping them on the head!
Down came the Good Fairy, and she said,
"Little Rabbit Froo Froo, I don't want to see you, scooping
up the field mice and bopping them on the head."
"I'll give your three chances, and then I am going to turn
you into a Goon!"

Little Rabbit Froo Froo, hopping thru the forest, scooping
up the field mice and bopping them on the head!
Down came the Good Fairy, and she said,
"Little Rabbit Froo Froo, I don't want to see you, scooping
up the field mice and bopping them on the head."
"I'll give your two more chances, and then I am going to turn
you into a Goon!"

Little Rabbit Froo Froo, hopping thru the forest, scooping
up the field mice and bopping them on the head!
Down came the Good Fairy, and she said,
"Little Rabbit Froo Froo, I don't want to see you, scooping
up the field mice and bopping them on the head."
"I'll give your one more chance, and then I am going to turn
you into a Goon!"

Little Rabbit Froo Froo, hopping thru the forest, scooping
up the field mice and bopping them on the head!
Down came the Good Fairy, and she said,
"Little Rabbit Froo Froo, I don't want to see you, scooping
up the field mice and bopping them on the head."
"I've given you three chances, and now I am going to turn
you into a Goon!"

*POOF*

(Turning Froo Froo into a Goon)

And the moral of this story is:
Hare today, Goon tomorrow!


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