ZANE GREY 



By W. Livingston Lamed 



Been to Avalon with Grey . . . been most everywhere; 

 Chummed with him and fished with him in every Sportsman's 



lair. 

 Helped him with the white Sea-bass and Barracuda haul, 

 Shared the Tuna's sprayful sport and heard his Hunter-call, 

 Me an' Grey are fisliin' friends . . . Pals of rod and reel. 

 Whether it's the sort that fights ... or th' humble eel. 

 On and on, through Wonderland . . . winds a-blowin' free. 

 Catching all th' fins that grow . . . Sportsman Grey an' Me. 



Been to Florida with Zane . . . scouting down th' coast; 

 Whipped the deep for Tarpon, too, that natives love th' most. 

 Seen the snuluig. Tropic isles that pass, in green review. 

 Gathered cocoanut and moss where Southern skies were blue. 

 Seen him laugh that boyish laugh, when things were goin' 



right; 

 Helped him beach our little boat and kindle fires at night. 

 Comrades of the Open Way, the Treasure-Trove of Sea, 

 Port Ahoy and who cares where, with Mister Grey an' Me! 



Been to Western lands with Grey . . . hunted fox and deer. 



Seen the Grizzly's ugly face with danger lurkia' near. 



Slept on needles, near th' sky, and marked th' round moon 



rise 

 Over purpling peaks of snow that hurt a fellow's eyes. 

 Gone, Uke Indians, imder brush and to some mystic place — 

 Home of red men, long since gone, to join their dying race. 

 Yes . . . we've chummed it, onward — outward . . . mountain, 



wood, and Key, 

 At the quiet readin'-table . . . Sportsman Grey an' Me. 



