Song of a Pioneer Boy


The bugle calls,
The bugle cries.
I know it’s time
To wake my eyes.
The teams await
Their breakfast pail.
All must be fed
When we start on the trail.
The wheels turn,
The wheels squeak.
The blistering sun
Colors red my cheeks.
The dusty road
Stretches out to the sky.
We sing as we walk
To make time go by.
The wheels turn,
The wheels squeak.
I cool my warm toes
In the icy creek.
The wagons circle
For the coming night.
I build a large fire
For warmth and light.
The bugle calls,
The bugle cries.
I kneel in prayer,
Then rest my eyes.

[illustration] Illustrated by Mark Robison