D.J. O'Malley was born in San Angelo, Texas, in 1868, and put in nearly a score of years on the open range. He started cowboying in Montana in 1884. His career as a cowboy poet began in 1889 when he penned "To the Memory of Wiley Collins" about a chuck wagon cook who was killed by lightning. Over the next half century, he wrote many poems and stories about the men and the work he knew, often using the pen name N Bar N Kid White. Some, such as "When The Work's All Done This Fall," (which was originally called "After the Round-up") were popularized in song. As they worked their way around the ranges from Montana to Texas, they were often changed or added to, and their origin might have been lost. Thankfully, O'Malley also published them in newspapers, notably the Miles City Stock-Growers Journal, and when later would-be poets claimed his work, he could haul out the originals with the date right on the page. He was proud to have been a "rep" representing the N Bar N during the roundups. He would have admitted to being a cowboy and a poet, but never seems to have thought of himself as an historian. His work, whether poem or prose, did record history, though: the history of the men, the work, the humor, and the loss of the open range.
--Lyndel Meikle, Ranger Grant-Kohrs Ranch National Historic Site Deer Lodge, Montana

While "Kid White" (D. J. O'Malley) worked for other outfits a short time, for years he was with the N Bar N, and the fact that he was sent out to rep is enough to prove that he was a good cowpuncher and was trusted by his wagon boss. Charlie Le Noir told me one day that you could sure tie to Kid White, and that is the greatest compliment you could pay to a man on the range. A "rep" had to be a good fellow, a good mixer, and he had to be good on brands and, above all, loyal to his outfit.
--Teddy "Blue" Abbott Old-time Cowboy and Author

The Montana Historical Society is delighted that this manuscript, which the Society has had in its collections for more than three decades, is being published and that D. J. O'Malley's writings will gain some of the wider recognition they deserve.

D. J. O'MALLEY
"Where The Sage Brush Grows"

I'm living in an eastern state
And though I do my best
To make it feel like home to me
My heart's still in the West.
I often think of days gone by
Of the Cheyennes, Sioux and Crows
Yes, my heart is in Montana
Where the sage brush grows.

I live again the many years
I rode upon the range
While working as a cowboy
A life wild, free and strange.
In summertime we roasted
In wintertime we froze
But we stuck to Old Montana
Where the sage brush grows.

We rode the circles in the hills
We rode our guard at night
No matter what the weather was
No matter what our plight.
We took the bitter with the sweet
Life's poetry or prose
On the range out in Montana
Where the sage brush grows.

The grand old Yellowstone would be
A welcome sight to me
As it pours its snow cold water
From the mountains to the sea.
I'd like again the flats to see
Where the Powder River flows
Out yonder in Montana
Where the sage brush grows.

There ain't a lot of us old hands left
Who rode in eighty-two
In fact the old-time cowboys
In numbers now are few.
We've lived the life, a hard one
Mixed up with joys and woes
And we still love old Montana
Where the sage brush grows.

But what's the use of hankering
I'm staked out, here to stay
Among sand burrs and cutworms
My old frame they will lay.
But when I cross the high divide
For the range where green grass shows
I'll be thinking of Montana
Where the sage brush grows.

I'm getting rather ancient now
I ain't got long to stay
A roamin' on this earthly range
But this I'll truthful say;
If I have only strength enough
'Fore my eyes in death I close
I'll say, "God bless Montana
Where the sage brush grows."

—D. J. O'Malley

Limited Numbered Edition, ISBN 0-9645626-5-0, $24.95