Ain’t lookin’ fer no pot a gol’ at the end a the rainbow. I know things ain’t gonna be any better where I’m goin’, might be a bit different’s all. I been all over this here country, ‘n I know there ain’t no place where somebody’s gonna come out ‘n stick a silver spoon in my mouth. Ya make it what ya’ c’n. But yer movin’ over them rails. Ain’t nothin’ er nobody c’n touch ya when yer movin’. Beats doin’ a nine ta five, lettin’ yer boss tell ya which way is up.

I git to a division, ‘n I might ride back the way I came.  That run b’tween Wishram ‘n Bend, ‘long the Deschutes, I rid that seven times in one week, back ‘n forth, lookin’ out over the canyon.

18.