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Volume 0951
ERBapa Reprint
Jeddak and Princess of the North: Art by Thomas Yeates
ERBapa No. 74 ~ Summer 2002
ERBapa v02 n07

BILL HILLMAN 
Aka JoN: Jeddak of the North 
41 Kensington Crescent, 
Brandon, MB  R7A 6M4  Canada 
204.728.4673 ~ hillmans@westman.wave.ca 
BILL & SUE-ON HILLMAN ECLECTIC STUDIO 
http://www.hillmanweb.com
ERB's Favourite Poet
Henry Herbert Knibbs
Part II
Continued from Part I in ERBzine 0950


.
Copyright 2005: Knibbs Family Archive ~ Not for download or distribution

The western poetry of Henry Herbert Knibbs serves as a wonderful inspiration for all young aspiring poets. It also gives each of us in this genus, the challenge of a high standard to reach for.

---Dolan Ellis, Arizona Folklore Preserve, Hereford, Arizona


 Knibbs' sensitivity is impressive and inspirational. His imagery makes me feel like I am standing "Where the Ponies Come to Drink." I feel the wrath of "Maw", I ride with "The Bigelow Boys"  and I can smell the rain in "Rainmaker."

— Red Steagall, Western Entertainer, Fort Worth, Texas
BREAD

Oh, my heart it is just achin'
For a little bit of bacon
A hunk of bread, a little mug of brew
by Henry Herbert Knibbs

I'm tired of seein' scenery
Just lead me to a beanery
Where there's something more than only air to chew
BOOMER JOHNSON
Now Mr. Boomer Johnson was a gettin' old in spots, 
But you don't expect a bad man to go wrastlin' pans and pots; 
But he'd done his share of killin' and his draw was gettin' slow, 
So he quits a-punchin' cattle and he takes to punchin' dough. 

Our foreman up and hires him, figurin' age had rode him tame, 
But a snake don't get no sweeter just by changin' of its name. 
Well, Old Boomer knowed his business - he could cook to make you smile, 
But say, he wrangled fodder in a most peculiar style. 

He never used no matches - left 'em layin' on the shelf, 
Just some kerosene and cussin' and the kindlin' lit itself. 
And, pardner, I'm allowin' it would give a man a jolt 
To see him stir frijoles with the barrel of his Colt. 

Now killin' folks and cookin' ain't so awful far apart, 
That musta been why Boomer kept a-practicin' his art; 
With the front sight of his pistol he would cut a pie-lid slick, 
And he'd crimp her with the muzzle for to make the edges stick. 

He built his doughnuts solid, and it sure would curl your hair 
To see him plug a doughnut as he tossed it in the air.
He bored the holes plum center every time his pistol spoke, 
Till the can was full of doughnuts and the shack was full of smoke. 

We-all was gettin' jumpy, but he couldn't understand 
Why his shootin' made us nervous when his cookin' was so grand. 
He kept right on performin', and it weren't no big surprise 
When he took to markin' tombstones on the covers of his pies. 

They didn't taste no better and they didn't taste no worse, 
But a-settin' at the table was like ridin' in a hearse; 
You didn't do no talkin' and you took just what you got, 
So we et till we was foundered just to keep from gettin' shot. 

When at breakfast one bright mornin', I was feelin' kind of low, 
Old Boomer passed the doughnuts and I tells him plenty :"No, 
All I takes this trip is coffee, for my stomach is a wreck." 
I could see the itch for killin' swell the wattle on his neck. 

Scorn his grub? He strings some doughnuts on the muzzle of his gun, 
And he shoves her in my gizzard and he says, "You're takin' one!" 
He was set to start a graveyard, but for once he was mistook; 
Me not wantin' any doughnuts, I just up and salts the cook. 

Did they fire him? Listen, pardner, there was nothin' left to fire, 
Just a row of smilin' faces and another cook to hire. 
If he joined some other outfit and is cookin', what I mean, 
It's where they ain't no matches and they don't need kerosene. 
MAKE ME NO GRAVE
Make me no grave within that quiet place 
Where friends shall sadly view the grassy mound, 
Politely solemn for a little space, 
As though the spirit slept beneath the ground. 

For me no sorrow, nor the hopeless tear; 
No chant, no prayer, no tender eulogy: 
I may be laughing with the gods--while here 
You weep alone. Then make no grave for me 

But lay me where the pines, austere and tall, 
Sing in the wind that sweeps across the West: 
Where night, imperious, sets her coronal 
Of silver starts upon the mountain crest. 

Where dawn, rejoicing, rises from the deep, 
And Life, rejoicing, rises with the dawn: 
Mark not the spot upon the sunny steep, 
For with the morning light I shall be gone. 

Far trails await me; valleys vast and still, 
Vistas undreamed of, canyon-guarded streams, 
Lowland and range, fair meadow, flower-girt hill, 
Forests enchanted, filled with magic dreams. 

And I shall find brave comrades on the way: 
None shall be lonely in adventuring, 
For each a chosen task to round the day, 
New glories to amaze, new songs to sing. 

Loud swells the wind along the mountain-side, 
High burns the sun, unfettered swings the sea, 
Clear gleam the trails whereon the vanished ride, 
Life calls to life: then make no grave for me! 

Henry Herbert Knibbs 















 

 
Where the Ponies Come to Drink 

Up in Northern Arizona
   there's a Ranger-trail that passes
Through a mesa, like a faëry lake
   with pines upon its brink,
And across the trail a stream runs
   all but hidden in the grasses,
Till it finds an emerald hollow
   where the ponies come to drink.

Out they fling across the mesa,
   wind-blown manes and forelocks dancing,
Blacks and sorrels, bays and pintos,
   wild as eagles, eyes agleam;
From their hoofs the silver flashes,
   burning beads and arrows glancing
Through the bunch-grass and the gramma
   as they cross the little stream.

Down they swing as if pretending,
   in their orderly disorder,
That they stopped to hold a pow-wow,
   just to rally for the charge
That will take them, close to sunset,
   twenty miles across the border;
Then the leader sniffs and drinks
   with fore feet planted on the marge.

One by one each head is lowered,
   till some yearling nips another,
And the playful interruption
   starts an eddy in the band:
Snorting, squealing, plunging, wheeling,
   round they circle in a smother
Of the muddy spray, nor pause
   until they find the firmer land.

 My old cow-horse he runs with 'em:
   turned him loose for good last season;
Eighteen years; hard work, his record,
   and he's earned his little rest;
And he's taking it by playing,
   acting proud, and with good reason;
Though he's starched a little forward,
   he can fan it with the best.

Once I called him--almost caught him,
   when he heard my spur-chains jingle;
Then he eyed me some reproachful,
   as if making up his mind:
Seemed to say, "Well, if I have to--
   but you know I'm living single..."
So I laughed.
   In just a minute he was pretty hard to find.

Some folks wouldn't understand it,--
   writing lines about a pony,--
For a cow-horse is a cow-horse,--
   nothing else, most people think,--
But for eighteen years your partner,
   wise and faithful, such a crony
Seems worth watching for, a spell,
   down where the ponies come to drink.
 
 
 
 

 

 
Make Me No Grave 

Make me no grave within that quiet place
   Where friends shall sadly view the grassy mound,
Politely solemn for a little space,
   As though the spirit slept beneath the ground.

For me no sorrow, nor the hopeless tear;
   No chant, no prayer, no tender eulogy:
I may be laughing with the gods--while here
   You weep alone. Then make no grave for me

But lay me where the pines, austere and tall,
   Sing in the wind that sweeps across the West:
Where night, imperious, sets her coronal
   Of silver stars upon the mountain crest.

Where dawn, rejoicing, rises from the deep,
   And Life, rejoicing, rises with the dawn:
Mark not the spot upon the sunny steep,
   For with the morning light I shall be gone.
Far trails await me; valleys vast and still,
   Vistas undreamed of, canyon-guarded streams,
Lowland and range, fair meadow, flower-girt hill,
   Forests enchanted, filled with magic dreams.

And I shall find brave comrades on the way:
   None shall be lonely in adventuring,
For each a chosen task to round the day,
   New glories to amaze, new songs to sing.

Loud swells the wind along the mountain-side,
   High burns the sun, unfettered swings the sea,
Clear gleam the trails whereon the vanished ride,
   Life calls to life: then make no grave for me!







 


Guide to the
Henry Herbert Knibbs Papers
1874-1945
Department of Special Collections and University Archives Stanford University Libraries

Scope and Content of Archive Containers: Highlights

Corresponence, documents, photographs and sketches, newspaper clippings, tearsheets, and Knibbs' death mask. The areas covered include works by Henry Knibbs, including novels, short stories and poetry; biographical data on Knibbs; and works by other authors.
Section I: Works By Henry H. Knibbs
Poetry, General File, Untitled, A - E. Including manuscript, typescript, carbon typescript, and tearsheet, (some with autograph correction) of the following: [Box 5, Folder 54]
  • Untitled (37 pp.)
  • "The Adventurer"
  • "An Mind Ye, Mither?"
  • "Apaloosie Bill"
  • "Arithmatic", See "Wayfarer"
  • "At This Farewell"
  • "Ballad Of the Herd Boy"
  • "Ballad Of Billy the Kid"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Ballad Of Boot Hill"
  • "Balland Of the Broomtails"
  • "A Barb Of Spain"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Barrowlea"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Benny Benito"; See Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Betty Jane"
  • "The Bigelow Boys"; See Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Bill McGee"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Bill Tandy"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Black Storm"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Blue Gene"
  • "A Blue-Grass Colt"
  • "Boomer Johnson"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
  • "The Border Land"
  • "The Bosky Steer"; See Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Boss Of Cinder Town"
  • "A Brachycephalic Dome"
  • "Burro"
  • "A Braided Bridle"
  • "Chang Chung Chang"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Charley Lee"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Cheeopah"
  • "Cherokee Strip"
  • "Christmas, 1906"
  • "Cowboy, What You Doin' Here"
  • "The Day Of Nine Books"
  • "Dirge Of the Indian Mother"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
  • "Don Carlos"
  • "The Drums Of Spain"
  • "Dust Of Gold"
  • "End Of the Road"
  • "The Earth and Us"

    • "The Edge of Town"

    Poetry, General File, F - Z: [Box 5, Folder 55]

    • "Fane Arden"
    • "Faraday Bill"
    • "The Frontier Doc"
    • "The Fugitive"
    • "Gabriel's Border Patrol"
    • "Gambler's Choice"
    • "Gifts"
    • "The Golden Leopard"
    • "He'll Make A Hand"; See Folder 4 - 42.
    • "The Herd Boy" xerox)
    • "His Enemy"
    • "I Have Builded Me A Home"
    • "If A Horse Could Talk"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Illilouettee"; See also Folder 4 - 42
    • "In Gratitude"
    • "Inland"
    • "The Irate Pilgrim"
    • "Joe Biddle"; See also 4 - 42.
    • "Julia"
    • "Just Over the Border"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Layman's Dream"
    • "Legend Of Mournful Joe"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Legend Of Navajo"
    • "The Little People"
    • "Lost Gold"
    • "Lost Ledge"; See Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Lyric"
    • "Man O' War"
    • "The Man Upon the Way"
    • "Marjorie Pickthal"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Men Of My Country"
    • "A Meeting in Bret Harte's Country"
    • "Manuel Escobar"; See Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Morningstar"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Mudshell"
    • "The Mule"
    • "Nameless River"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Ode To Anesthesia - Our Lady Of Mercy"
    • "The Old Alcalde"
    • "The Old Buccaneer"
    • "Old Timer"
    • "The Optimist"
    • "Out There Somewhere"
    • "Out Where the West Belongs"
    • "The Plant of Sara"
    • "The Plant of the Athenian Woman"
    • "Plant of The Chinese Woman"
    • "Pine Tree Trail (Up Cuyamaca)"
    • "The Plains"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Powder Bill"
    • "Prevision"
    • "Rain Makers"
    • "Renegade"
    • "Reguiem"
    • "Ricardo"
    • "Roll a Rock Down"
    • "Roll On, Ole River"
    • "Sappho"
    • "Seldom Joe"
    • "Silent Joe"
    • "The Silver-Shod"; See Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Song Of Mora"
    • "Song Of the Mule"; See Folder 4 - 42.
    • "The Squire"
    • "The Spanish Man"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Stallion Gray"
    • "Stallions Of the Storm"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Temescal Of Cabezon"
    • "The Tenderfoot"
    • "That Was Maw"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "That Lila Lee Mare"
    • "A Thousand Miles Or So"
    • "Tonga Bill"; See Folder 4 - 42.
    • "The Toughest Man In Town"
    • "Trail To Glory"
    • "Tree By the Window"
    • "The Two Saddles"
    • Unidentified
    • "Valley That God Forgot"
    • "Walkin' John"; See also Folder 4 - 42.
    • "Wanderer's Highway"
    • "Wayfarer"
    • "We Aim To Please"
    • "Wherever"
    • "Which Way Is the Wagon?"
    • "Wife of Bath"
    • "Wild Horses"
    • "The Wind"

      • Notebooks Of Henry H. Knibbs.  Including one on architecture; and one with start of autograph manuscript autobiography, 6 pp.
      Miscellaneous notes and outlines(c. 60 items). 
    Section II: Correspondence. Section VI: Oversize Misc. Periodicals: Tearsheets: Other Authors Shelved elsewhere: Knibbs, Henry Herbert, Síla Zivota, Polish edition of work, 1932.


    Other ERBzine Features on H. H. Knibbs

    See the ERB Personal Library Project
    Shelf K2

    Read H. H. Knibbs in ERBzine

    JIM WARING OF SONORA-TOWN: TANG OF LIFE
    A Novel and Poetry by One of ERB's Favourite Authors:
    Henry Herbert Knibbs
    Section I: 80 Pages
    Section II: 85 Pages
    Section III: 74 Pages
    Unformatted Text Version I
    Unformatted Text Version II
    Unformatted Text Version III
    Also
    Billy Byrde Schmucker's Appearance in the Ratnaz Files
    (ERB Parody ~ 17-page excerpt)

    To Part I of this Two-Part Series


    Volume 0951

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