By Fred Miller
Gather round the fire, folks I'll tell to you my tale Of guns an' stock an' riders And of moonlight on the trail Of rock an' rain an' sunshine In an almost forgotten time Of trails all growed over 'Mongst the high up twisted pine Of the view you get of sundown When you sit at timberline Of the cracklin' of a fire When it's fed with spruce or pine Of the smell of sweatin' horses Of of sleepin' on the ground An' that cup of mornin' coffee When there just ain't any sound Of the quiet before the thunder When Ma nature holds her breathe An' the winds from out the mountain, cold Like it's blowed 'cross the face of death Of spurs an' boots an' saddles Of hobbles, packs an' ropes Of moose an' elk an' whisky jacks And life upon the slopes It's a country with the bark on It's rough, but then again People stop to say, "Hello" For it brings out the best in men. Fire Side by Fred Lawrence Miller (May 24, 1955 - Nov 2, 2012) was excerpted from his only book of poetry, 'Leftovers, Latigoes & Lies.' Fred was a popular outfitter, noted mule man and highly regarded cowboy poet from Alberta.