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Sherry Marsh Sixth Annual Argus Climb and Burro Bake April 20, 1985 |
| THE SWAN SONG OF J. ARGUS BURRO (an
obscure poem by B.s. Eliot) Let us go them, you and I When Argus Peak stands out against thE sky Like a burro barbequeing on the coals Let us climb a certain well-known listed peak With so mutterings of retreat From restless climbers on their sixth ascent Or novice climbers with their strength all spent - Or hands by cholla and by cats-claw scarred - Climbers that raise the tedious argument - "We got the peak last year from Ron's back yard!" And always ask the overwhelming question... Oh, do not ask, Why climb? Let us hike it one last time! In camp, the people come and go Sampling the sauce and roast burro. And indeed there will be time Time to prepare a feast to feed the climbers that we meet - There will be time to barbeque and create- And time for all the poems and skits and songs And to pile a second helping on our plate. Yes, we have climbed the routes already, climbed them all - Have climbed Crow Canyon, Great Falls Basin, Christmas Tree - We have measured out the routes most accurately! But though we have climbed and feasted, climbed and played Though we have seem six desert dear (some slightly rare) brought in upon a platter, We're Desert Rats! - and so its no great matter; We have heard the swan song of the desert deer, And we have seem each DPSer raise a glass and cheer, And in short, we're not dismayed. And yes, it has been worth it after all. Oh, do not ask, why climb? Let us hike it one last time! We grow old...we grow stout... We shall, wear the bottoms of our trousers out. Shall we climb the peak once more? Do we dare to try and reach For yet another unclimbed route, perhaps from Newport Beach? We have heard the burros singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to Ron. He has heard them braying loudly in the dawn. Munching until his Trona flowers were gone. He has met them on the highways - disastrously Charging toward his van and destiny. We have Lingered by the fire to toast our feat Our coffee wreathed with brandy strong and sweat Til burro voices wake us, and we eat. |
HOME ON THE ARGUS
RANGE (Tune - Rome on the Range) Oh, dig ma a pit Where a burro will fit Break out one more bottle of wine! For we have just heard The discouraging word That this is the Last Argus climb! Farewell, Argus rang. Where the D.P.S. Loved to play Where each year we seek, a new route up the peak While the burro is roasting all day. BURROTINE (Tune of Clementine) In a canyon, In the desert Excavating for a wake Were the climbers And old timers At the final Burro Bake. Oh, the burro, Oh, the burro Oh, the Burro Bake is gone! We will climb no More in Trona Dreadful sorry, Norm and Ron Drove we campers To the desert After taxes every year Bagged the peak In sun and shower Fell into our foaming beer. Light it was, and What a party To adjust our attitudes Herrings, oysters, Guacamole, And the burro, barbequed! Ruby coals Around the campfire To illuminate our rhyme Alas for us Norm's out of burros So we've lost our Argus climb. |
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| Here I wandered, hungry, weary Found a group with desert deery Splendid leaders acting clearly Fed me meat while talking beery Fine fine group of many people climbed this peak which is no steeple Cool the weather dim the sun Fresh the breezes nice the run Down we came in one loose mass Idling engines use no gas Breeding burros eat the grass Desert peakers eat their ass. |