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Crossing The Divide
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This is a classic poem from the 1800s written by J. W. Folley. An old cowboy settin' hiself for the here after.
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J. W. Folley/B. Dominguez
My Favorite Poets
Wed Mar 24, 2004
Country : Country and Western
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Charts position
» highest in charts:   # 212   (68,877 songs currently listed in Country)
» highest in sub-genre:   # 21   (2,335 songs currently listed in Country > Country and Western)
About the song
Writer Ray sent me this poem and said that he thought I would like it. He was right, I liked it, but my wife isn't too sure. We'll let the fans call it.
Crossing The Great Divide
Lyrics by J. W. Foley Music by B. Dominguez

Parson, I’m a maverick, just loose and grazin’
Eatin’ where the greenest grass an’ drinkin’ where I choose;
Had to rustle in my youth an’ never had no raisin’
Wasn’t never halter broke an’ I ain’t much to lose;

Used to sleepin’ in a bag an’ livin’ in a slicker;
Church folks never branded me- I don’t know as they tried;
Wish you’de say a prayer for me an’ try to make a dicker
For the best they’ll give me when I cross the Big Divide

Tell ‘em I ain’t corralled a night in more’n twenty;
Tell’em I’m rawboned a’ rough an’ ain’t much for looks;
Tell’em I don’t need much grief because I’ve had a-plenty;
I don’t know how bad I am ‘cause I ain’t kept no books

Tell’em I’m a meverick a-runnin’ loose unbranded;
Tell’em I shoot straight an’ quick an’ ain’t much to hide;
Have ‘em come an’ size me up as soon as I get landed
For the best they’ll give me when I cross that Great Divide.

Tell ‘em I rode straight an’ square an’ never grabbed for leather;
Never roped a crippled steer or rode a sore-backed horse;
Tell ‘em I’ve bucked wind an’ rain an’ every sort of weather,
Had my tilts with A. K. Hall an’ captain R. E. Morse

Don’t hide nothin’ from ‘em, weather it be sweet or bitter,
Tell ‘em I’ll stay on th’ range, but if I’m shut outside
I’ll abide it like a man because I ain’t no quitter;
I ain’t going to change just when I cross th’ Big Divide.

Tell ‘em when the roundup comes for all us human critters,
Just corral me with my kind an’ run a brand on me;
I don’t want to be corralled with no hypocrites an’ quitters;
Brand me just for what I am-an’ I’m just what you see.

I don’t want no steam-het stall or bran-mash for my ration;
I just want to meet th’ boss an’ face him honest-eyed,
Show him just what chips I got an’ shove ‘em in for cashin’
That’s what you can tell ‘em when I cross the Big Divide