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diff --git a/21300-h/21300-h.htm b/21300-h/21300-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..be3d6c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/21300-h/21300-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9323 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Cowboy Songs And Other Frontier Ballads. Collected by John A. Lomax, M.A.</title> + + +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- + +body {font-size: 1em; text-align: justify; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 5%;} + +h1 {font-size: 130%; text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} +h2 {font-size: 120%; text-align: center; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 2em;} +h3 {font-size: 120%; text-align: center; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 2em;} +h4 {text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h5 {font-size: 110%; text-align: center; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +table {margin: auto;} + +hr.small {margin-left: 10%; width: 10%;} + +ul {list-style-type: none;} + +.tit-song {font-size: 120%; margin-left: 10%; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +.p4 {margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 1em;} + +.pagenum {visibility: hidden; position: absolute; right:0; + font-size: 10px; text-align: right; + color: #C0C0C0; background-color: inherit;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} + +.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + +.left30 {margin-left: 30%;} +.left40 {margin-left: 40%;} +.left60 {margin-left: 60%;} + +.add1em {margin-left: 1em;} +.add2em {margin-left: 2em;} +.add3em {margin-left: 3em;} +.add4em {margin-left: 4em;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +--> +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cowboy Songs, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Cowboy Songs + and Other Frontier Ballads + +Author: Various + +Release Date: May 4, 2007 [EBook #21300] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COWBOY SONGS *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net. Music transcribed by Linda Cantoni, +Joyce Wilson, Espe (Nada Prodanovic), and the PG Finale +Project Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p>[Transcriber's notes:<br> +-Page vii: The word following "view of what Owen" was unclear, +and may not be the "Writes" which has been chosen.<br><br> + +We've made every effort to match the original, except for the following +formatting changes and corrections:<br> + +1. The music system layout in these pieces is sometimes odd +(e.g. bars broken off in the middle), so the system layout has been +normalized where necessary.<br> + +2. Text in small-caps could not be reproduced -- all-caps has been used instead.<br> + +3. Obvious musical errors in the original have been corrected, as follows:<br> + +<span class="add2em">Days of Forty-Nine:</span> bar 9, beat 3, piano left hand - +corrected quarter note to dotted quarter note; bar 11, beat 1, piano left hand - +corrected bottom note from F to G.<br> + +<span class="add2em">Whoopee Ti Yi Yo:</span> bar 6, beat 4, piano right hand - +corrected next-to-last chord from A-B-D (which sounds very wrong) to F-G-D +(to match chord in bar 9, beat 4); in lyrics, corrected "Its" to "It's" in bar 15.<br> + +<span class="add2em">Little Joe, The Wrangler:</span> repeat barline moved to correct place at end.<br> + +<span class="add2em">Prisoner for Life:</span> third to last bar, piano left hand, +bottom note corrected from C to B.<br> + +<span class="add2em">The Dying Ranger:</span> in bar 4, voice part, corrected dotted +quarter to dotted eighth.<br> + +<span class="add2em">Fuller and Warren:</span> in bar 14, piano right hand, the D-sharp +in the last chord was corrected to D-natural.]</p> + + +<h1>COWBOY SONGS <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagei" name="pagei"></a>(p. i)</span> + +AND OTHER FRONTIER BALLADS</h1> + + +<p class="left40">What keeps the herd from running, <span class="pagenum"><a id="pageii" name="pageii"></a>(p. ii)</span><br> +Stampeding far and wide?<br> +The cowboy's long, low whistle,<br> +And singing by their side.</p> + + +<h1>COWBOY SONGS <span class="pagenum"><a id="pageiii" name="pageiii"></a>(p. iii)</span> + +AND OTHER FRONTIER BALLADS</h1> + + +<p class="center p4">COLLECTED BY</p> + +<h2>JOHN A. LOMAX, M.A.</h2> + +<p class="center">THE UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS<br> +SHELDON FELLOW FOR THE INVESTIGATION OF AMERICAN BALLADS,<br> +HARVARD UNIVERSITY</p> + +<p class="center">WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY<br> +BARRETT WENDELL</p> + + +<p class="center p4"><i>New York</i><br> +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br> +1929</p> + +<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1910, 1916, <span class="pagenum"><a id="pageiv" name="pageiv"></a>(p. iv)</span><br> +<span class="smcap">By</span> STURGIS & WALTON COMPANY.</p> + +<hr class="small"> + +<p class="center">Set up and electrotyped. Published November, 1910. Reprinted +April, 1911; January, 1915.</p> + +<p class="center">New Edition with additions, March, 1916; April, 1917; December, +1918; July, 1919.</p> + +<p class="center">Reissued January, 1927. Reprinted February, 1929.</p> + + +<p class="center p4">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.<br> +BY BERWICK & SMITH CO.</p> + + + + + +<p class="center p4"><i>To</i> <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagev" name="pagev"></a>(p. v)</span><br> + +MR. THEODORE ROOSEVELT<br> + +WHO WHILE PRESIDENT WAS NOT TOO BUSY TO<br> +TURN ASIDE—CHEERFULLY AND EFFECTIVELY—AND<br> +AID WORKERS IN THE FIELD OF AMERICAN<br> +BALLADRY, THIS VOLUME IS GRATEFULLY<br> +DEDICATED</p> + + + + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pagevii" name="pagevii"></a>(p. vii)</span> + +<p class="left60 p4">Cheyenne<br> +Aug 28th 1910</p> + +<p>Dear Mr. Lomax,</p> + +<p>You have done a work emphatically worth doing and one which should +appeal to the people of all our country, but particularly to the +people of the west and southwest. Your subject is not only exceedingly +interesting to the student of literature, but also to the student of +the general history of the west. There is something very curious in +the reproduction here on this new continent of essentially the +conditions of ballad-growth which obtained in mediæval England; +including, by the way, sympathy for the outlaw, Jesse James taking the +place of Robin Hood. Under modern conditions however, the native +ballad is speedily killed by competition with the music hall songs; +the cowboys becoming ashamed to sing the crude homespun ballads in +view of what Owen Writes calls the "ill-smelling saloon cleverness" +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pageviii" name="pageviii"></a>(p. viii)</span> of the far less interesting compositions of the music-hall +singers. It is therefore a work of real importance to preserve +permanently this unwritten ballad literature of the back country and +the frontier.</p> + +<p>With all good wishes, I am</p> + +<p><span class="add2em">very truly yours</span><br> +<span class="left60">Theodore Roosevelt</span></p> + + + + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pageix" name="pageix"></a>(p. ix)</span> + + +<ul class="left30"> +<li><a href="#page390"><span class="smcap">Araphoe, or Buckskin Joe</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page211"><span class="smcap">Arizona Boys and Girls, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page100"><span class="smcap">Bill Peters, the Stage Driver</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page344"><span class="smcap">Billy the Kid</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page299"><span class="smcap">Billy Venero</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page265"><span class="smcap">Bob Stanford</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page194"><span class="smcap">Bonnie Black Bess</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page304"><span class="smcap">Boozer, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page147"><span class="smcap">Boston Burglar, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page399"><span class="smcap">Brigham Young</span>, I</a></li> +<li><a href="#page401"><span class="smcap">Brigham Young</span>, II</a></li> +<li><a href="#page377"><span class="smcap">Bronc Peeler's Song</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page367"><span class="smcap">Bucking Broncho</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page034"><span class="smcap">Buena Vista Battlefield</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page185"><span class="smcap">Buffalo Hunters</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page158"><span class="smcap">Buffalo Skinners, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page069"><span class="smcap">Bull Whacker, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page224"><span class="smcap">By Markentura's Flowery Marge</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page139"><span class="smcap">California Joe</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page411"><span class="smcap">California Stage Company</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page375"><span class="smcap">California Trail</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page322"><span class="smcap">Camp Fire Has Gone Out, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page267"><span class="smcap">Charlie Rutlage</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page371"><span class="smcap">Chopo</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page106"><span class="smcap">Cole Younger</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page290"><span class="smcap">Convict, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page358"><span class="smcap">Cow Camp on the Range, A</span></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pagex" name="pagex"></a>(p. x)</span></li> +<li><a href="#page096"><span class="smcap">Cowboy, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page246"><span class="smcap">Cowboy at Church, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page352"><span class="smcap">Cowboy at Work, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page335"><span class="smcap">Cowboy's Christmas Ball, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page018"><span class="smcap">Cowboy's Dream, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page074"><span class="smcap">Cowboy's Lament, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page020"><span class="smcap">Cowboy's Life, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page297"><span class="smcap">Cowboy's Meditation, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page251"><span class="smcap">Cowgirl, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page024"><span class="smcap">Cowman's Prayer, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page121"><span class="smcap">Crooked Trail to Holbrook, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page051"><span class="smcap">Dan Taylor</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page009"><span class="smcap">Days of Forty-Nine, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page379"><span class="smcap">Deer Hunt, A</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page350"><span class="smcap">Deserted Adobe, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page261"><span class="smcap">Disheartened Ranger, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page303"><span class="smcap">Dogie Song</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page331"><span class="smcap">Down South on the Rio Grande</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page177"><span class="smcap">Dreary Black Hills, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page233"><span class="smcap">Dreary, Dreary Life, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page305"><span class="smcap">Drinking Song</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page395"><span class="smcap">Drunkard's Hell, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page003"><span class="smcap">Dying Cowboy, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page214"><span class="smcap">Dying Ranger, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page219"><span class="smcap">Fair Fannie Moore</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page404"><span class="smcap">Fools of Forty-Nine, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page174"><span class="smcap">Foreman Monroe</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page360"><span class="smcap">Freckles, A Fragment</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page126"><span class="smcap">Fuller and Warren</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page306"><span class="smcap">Fragment, A</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page309"><span class="smcap">Fragment, A</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page207"><span class="smcap">Freighting from Wilcox to Globe</span></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexi" name="pagexi"></a>(p. xi)</span></li> +<li><a href="#page342"><span class="smcap">Gal I Left Behind Me, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page190"><span class="smcap">Gol-Darned Wheel, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page282"><span class="smcap">Great Round-Up, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page278"><span class="smcap">Greer County</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page327"><span class="smcap">Habit, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page409"><span class="smcap">Happy Miner, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page103"><span class="smcap">Hard Times</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page172"><span class="smcap">Harry Bale</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page222"><span class="smcap">Hell in Texas</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page345"><span class="smcap">Hell-Bound Train, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page354"><span class="smcap">Here's to the Ranger</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page271"><span class="smcap">Her White Bosom Bare</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page039"><span class="smcap">Home on the Range, A</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page136"><span class="smcap">Horse Wrangler, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page094"><span class="smcap">I'm a Good Old Rebel</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page064"><span class="smcap">Jack Donahoo</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page292"><span class="smcap">Jack o' Diamonds</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page112"><span class="smcap">Jerry, Go Ile that Car</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page027"><span class="smcap">Jesse James</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page237"><span class="smcap">Jim Farrow</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page015"><span class="smcap">Joe Bowers</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page114"><span class="smcap">John Garner's Trail Herd</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page284"><span class="smcap">Jolly Cowboy, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page276"><span class="smcap">Juan Murray</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page022"><span class="smcap">Kansas Line, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page083"><span class="smcap">Lackey Bill</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page197"><span class="smcap">Last Longhorn, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page386"><span class="smcap">Life in a Half-Breed Shack</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page167"><span class="smcap">Little Joe, the Wrangler</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page187"><span class="smcap">Little Old Sod Shanty, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page119"><span class="smcap">Lone Buffalo Hunter, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page310"><span class="smcap">Lone Star Trail, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page077"><span class="smcap">Love in Disguise</span></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexii" name="pagexii"></a>(p. xii)</span></li> +<li><a href="#page164"><span class="smcap">McCaffie's Confession</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page307"><span class="smcap">Man Named Hods, A</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page263"><span class="smcap">Melancholy Cowboy, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page072"><span class="smcap">Metis Song of the Buffalo Hunters</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page025"><span class="smcap">Miner's Song, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page108"><span class="smcap">Mississippi Girls</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page182"><span class="smcap">Mormon Song</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page047"><span class="smcap">Mormon Bishop's Lament, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page079"><span class="smcap">Mustang Gray</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page356"><span class="smcap">Muster Out the Ranger</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page413"><span class="smcap">New National Anthem</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page324"><span class="smcap">Night-Herding Song</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page058"><span class="smcap">Old Chisholm Trail, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page403"><span class="smcap">Old Gray Mule, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page110"><span class="smcap">Old Man Under the Hill, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page329"><span class="smcap">Old Paint</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page117"><span class="smcap">Old Scout's Lament, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page348"><span class="smcap">Old Scout's Lament, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page365"><span class="smcap">Old Time Cowboy</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page124"><span class="smcap">Only a Cowboy</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page369"><span class="smcap">Pecos Queen, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page340"><span class="smcap">Pinto</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page032"><span class="smcap">Poor Lonesome Cowboy</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page200"><span class="smcap">Prisoner for Life, A</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page318"><span class="smcap">Railroad Corral, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page397"><span class="smcap">Rambling Bay</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page244"><span class="smcap">Rambling Cowboy, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page269"><span class="smcap">Range Riders, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page315"><span class="smcap">Rattlesnake—A Ranch Haying Song</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page407"><span class="smcap">Ripping Trip, A</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page388"><span class="smcap">Road to Cook's Peak</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page254"><span class="smcap">Root Hog or Die</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page280"><span class="smcap">Rosin the Bow</span></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexiii" name="pagexiii"></a>(p. xiii)</span></li> +<li><a href="#page393"><span class="smcap">Rounded Up in Glory</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page149"><span class="smcap">Sam Bass</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page252"><span class="smcap">Shanty Boy, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page332"><span class="smcap">Silver Jack</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page056"><span class="smcap">Sioux Indians</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page243"><span class="smcap">Skew-Ball Black, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page320"><span class="smcap">Song of the "Metis" Trapper, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page226"><span class="smcap">State of Arkansaw, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page258"><span class="smcap">Sweet Betsy from Pike</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page326"><span class="smcap">Tail Piece</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page229"><span class="smcap">Texas Cowboy, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page373"><span class="smcap">Top Hand</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page044"><span class="smcap">Texas Rangers</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page132"><span class="smcap">Trail to Mexico, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page247"><span class="smcap">U.S.A. Recruit, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page066"><span class="smcap">Utah Carroll</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page204"><span class="smcap">Wars of Germany, The</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page314"><span class="smcap">Way Down in Mexico</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page037"><span class="smcap">Westward Ho</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page053"><span class="smcap">When the Work is Done This Fall</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page087"><span class="smcap">Whoopee-Ti-Yi-Yo, Git along Little Dogies</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page362"><span class="smcap">Whose Old Cow</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page383"><span class="smcap">Wild Rovers</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page381"><span class="smcap">Windy Bill</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page092"><span class="smcap">U-S-U Range</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page239"><span class="smcap">Young Charlottie</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page081"><span class="smcap">Young Companions</span></a></li> +<li><a href="#page154"><span class="smcap">Zebra Dun, The</span></a></li> +</ul> + + + +<h2>INTRODUCTION <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexiv" name="pagexiv"></a>(p. xiv)</span></h2> + + +<p>It is now four or five years since my attention was called to the +collection of native American ballads from the Southwest, already +begun by Professor Lomax. At that time, he seemed hardly to appreciate +their full value and importance. To my colleague, Professor G.L. +Kittredge, probably the most eminent authority on folk-song in +America, this value and importance appeared as indubitable as it +appeared to me. We heartily joined in encouraging the work, as a real +contribution both to literature and to learning. The present volume is +the first published result of these efforts.</p> + +<p>The value and importance of the work seems to me double. One phase of +it is perhaps too highly special ever to be popular. Whoever has begun +the inexhaustibly fascinating study of popular song and literature—of +the nameless poetry which vigorously lives through the centuries—must +be perplexed by the necessarily conjectural opinions concerning its +origin and development held by various and disputing scholars. When +songs were made in times and terms which for centuries have been not +living facts but facts of remote history or tradition, it is +impossible to be sure quite how they begun, and by quite what means +they sifted through the centuries into the <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexv" name="pagexv"></a>(p. xv)</span> forms at last +securely theirs, in the final rigidity of print. In this collection of +American ballads, almost if not quite uniquely, it is possible to +trace the precise manner in which songs and cycles of song—obviously +analogous to those surviving from older and antique times—have come +into being. The facts which are still available concerning the ballads +of our own Southwest are such as should go far to prove, or to +disprove, many of the theories advanced concerning the laws of +literature as evinced in the ballads of the old world.</p> + +<p>Such learned matter as this, however, is not so surely within my +province, who have made no technical study of literary origins, as is +the other consideration which made me feel, from my first knowledge of +these ballads, that they are beyond dispute valuable and important. In +the ballads of the old world, it is not historical or philological +considerations which most readers care for. It is the wonderful, +robust vividness of their artless yet supremely true utterance; it is +the natural vigor of their surgent, unsophisticated human rhythm. It +is the sense, derived one can hardly explain how, that here is +expression straight from the heart of humanity; that here is something +like the sturdy root from which the finer, though not always more +lovely, flowers of polite literature have sprung. At times when we +yearn for polite grace, ballads may seem rude; at times when polite +grace seems tedious, sophisticated, corrupt, or mendacious, their very +rudeness refreshes us <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexvi" name="pagexvi"></a>(p. xvi)</span> with a new sense of brimming life. To +compare the songs collected by Professor Lomax with the immortalities +of olden time is doubtless like comparing the literature of America +with that of all Europe together. Neither he nor any of us would +pretend these verses to be of supreme power and beauty. None the less, +they seem to me, and to many who have had a glimpse of them, +sufficiently powerful, and near enough beauty, to give us some such +wholesome and enduring pleasure as comes from work of this kind proved +and acknowledged to be masterly.</p> + +<p>What I mean may best be implied, perhaps, by a brief statement of +fact. Four or five years ago, Professor Lomax, at my request, read +some of these ballads to one of my classes at Harvard, then engaged in +studying the literary history of America. From that hour to the +present, the men who heard these verses, during the cheerless progress +of a course of study, have constantly spoken of them and written of +them, as of something sure to linger happily in memory. As such I +commend them to all who care for the native poetry of America.</p> + +<p><span class="left60 smcap">Barrett Wendell</span>.<br> +Nahant, Massachusetts,<br> +July 11, 1910.</p> + + +<h2>COLLECTOR'S NOTE <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexvii" name="pagexvii"></a>(p. xvii)</span></h2> + + +<p>Out in the wild, far-away places of the big and still unpeopled +west,—in the cañons along the Rocky Mountains, among the mining camps +of Nevada and Montana, and on the remote cattle ranches of Texas, New +Mexico, and Arizona,—yet survives the Anglo-Saxon ballad spirit that +was active in secluded districts in England and Scotland even after +the coming of Tennyson and Browning. This spirit is manifested both in +the preservation of the English ballad and in the creation of local +songs. Illiterate people, and people cut off from newspapers and +books, isolated and lonely,—thrown back on primal resources for +entertainment and for the expression of emotion,—utter themselves +through somewhat the same character of songs as did their forefathers +of perhaps a thousand years ago. In some such way have been made and +preserved the cowboy songs and other frontier ballads contained in +this volume. The songs represent the operation of instinct and +tradition. They are chiefly interesting to the present generation, +however, because of the light they throw on the conditions of pioneer +life, and more particularly because of the information they contain +concerning that unique and romantic figure in modern civilization, the +American cowboy.</p> + +<p>The <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexviii" name="pagexviii"></a>(p. xviii)</span> profession of cow-punching, not yet a lost art in a +group of big western states, reached its greatest prominence during +the first two decades succeeding the Civil War. In Texas, for example, +immense tracts of open range, covered with luxuriant grass, encouraged +the raising of cattle. One person in many instances owned thousands. +To care for the cattle during the winter season, to round them up in +the spring and mark and brand the yearlings, and later to drive from +Texas to Fort Dodge, Kansas, those ready for market, required large +forces of men. The drive from Texas to Kansas came to be known as +"going up the trail," for the cattle really made permanent, deep-cut +trails across the otherwise trackless hills and plains of the long +way. It also became the custom to take large herds of young steers +from Texas as far north as Montana, where grass at certain seasons +grew more luxuriant than in the south. Texas was the best breeding +ground, while the climate and grass of Montana developed young cattle +for the market.</p> + +<p>A trip up the trail made a distinct break in the monotonous life of +the big ranches, often situated hundreds of miles from where the +conventions of society were observed. The ranch community consisted +usually of the boss, the straw-boss, the cowboys proper, the horse +wrangler, and the cook—often a negro. These men lived on terms of +practical equality. Except in the case of the boss, there was little +difference in the amounts paid each for his services. <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexix" name="pagexix"></a>(p. xix)</span> +Society, then, was here reduced to its lowest terms. The work of the +men, their daily experiences, their thoughts, their interests, were +all in common. Such a community had necessarily to turn to itself for +entertainment. Songs sprang up naturally, some of them tender and +familiar lays of childhood, others original compositions, all genuine, +however crude and unpolished. Whatever the most gifted man could +produce must bear the criticism of the entire camp, and agree with the +ideas of a group of men. In this sense, therefore, any song that came +from such a group would be the joint product of a number of them, +telling perhaps the story of some stampede they had all fought to +turn, some crime in which they had all shared equally, some comrade's +tragic death which they had all witnessed. The song-making did not +cease as the men went up the trail. Indeed the songs were here +utilized for very practical ends. Not only were sharp, rhythmic +yells—sometimes beaten into verse—employed to stir up lagging +cattle, but also during the long watches the night-guards, as they +rode round and round the herd, improvised cattle lullabies which +quieted the animals and soothed them to sleep. Some of the best of the +so-called "dogie songs" seem to have been created for the purpose of +preventing cattle stampedes,—such songs coming straight from the +heart of the cowboy, speaking familiarly to his herd in the stillness +of the night.</p> + +<p>The long drives up the trail occupied months, and called <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexx" name="pagexx"></a>(p. xx)</span> for +sleepless vigilance and tireless activity both day and night. When at +last a shipping point was reached, the cattle marketed or loaded on +the cars, the cowboys were paid off. It is not surprising that the +consequent relaxation led to reckless deeds. The music, the dancing, +the click of the roulette ball in the saloons, invited; the lure of +crimson lights was irresistible. Drunken orgies, reactions from months +of toil, deprivation, and loneliness on the ranch and on the trail, +brought to death many a temporarily crazed buckaroo. To match this +dare-deviltry, a saloon man in one frontier town, as a sign for his +business, with psychological ingenuity painted across the broad front +of his building in big black letters this challenge to God, man, and +the devil: <i>The Road to Ruin</i>. Down this road, with swift and eager +footsteps, has trod many a pioneer viking of the West. Quick to resent +an insult real or fancied, inflamed by unaccustomed drink, the ready +pistol always at his side, the tricks of the professional gambler to +provoke his sense of fair play, and finally his own wild recklessness +to urge him on,—all these combined forces sometimes brought him into +tragic conflict with another spirit equally heedless and daring. Not +nearly so often, however, as one might suppose, did he die with his +boots on. Many of the most wealthy and respected citizens now living +in the border states served as cowboys before settling down to quiet +domesticity.</p> + +<p>A cow-camp in the seventies generally contained several <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexxi" name="pagexxi"></a>(p. xxi)</span> +types of men. It was not unusual to find a negro who, because of his +ability to handle wild horses or because of his skill with a lasso, +had been promoted from the chuck-wagon to a place in the ranks of the +cowboys. Another familiar figure was the adventurous younger son of +some British family, through whom perhaps became current the English +ballads found in the West. Furthermore, so considerable was the number +of men who had fled from the States because of grave imprudence or +crime, it was bad form to inquire too closely about a person's real +name or where he came from. Most cowboys, however, were bold young +spirits who emigrated to the West for the same reason that their +ancestors had come across the seas. They loved roving; they loved +freedom; they were pioneers by instinct; an impulse set their faces +from the East, put the tang for roaming in their veins, and sent them +ever, ever westward.</p> + +<p>That the cowboy was brave has come to be axiomatic. If his life of +isolation made him taciturn, it at the same time created a spirit of +hospitality, primitive and hearty as that found in the mead-halls of +Beowulf. He faced the wind and the rain, the snow of winter, the +fearful dust-storms of alkali desert wastes, with the same +uncomplaining quiet. Not all his work was on the ranch and the trail. +To the cowboy, more than to the goldseekers, more than to Uncle Sam's +soldiers, is due the conquest of the West. Along his winding cattle +trails the Forty-Niners <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexxii" name="pagexxii"></a>(p. xxii)</span> found their way to California. The +cowboy has fought back the Indians ever since ranching became a +business and as long as Indians remained to be fought. He played his +part in winning the great slice of territory that the United States +took away from Mexico. He has always been on the skirmish line of +civilization. Restless, fearless, chivalric, elemental, he lived hard, +shot quick and true, and died with his face to his foe. Still much +misunderstood, he is often slandered, nearly always caricatured, both +by the press and by the stage. Perhaps these songs, coming direct from +the cowboy's experience, giving vent to his careless and his tender +emotions, will afford future generations a truer conception of what he +really was than is now possessed by those who know him only through +highly colored romances.</p> + +<p>The big ranches of the West are now being cut up into small farms. The +nester has come, and come to stay. Gone is the buffalo, the Indian +warwhoop, the free grass of the open plain;—even the stinging lizard, +the horned frog, the centipede, the prairie dog, the rattlesnake, are +fast disappearing. Save in some of the secluded valleys of southern +New Mexico, the old-time round-up is no more; the trails to Kansas and +to Montana have become grass-grown or lost in fields of waving grain; +the maverick steer, the regal longhorn, has been supplanted by his +unpoetic but more beefy and profitable Polled Angus, Durham, and +Hereford cousins from across the seas. The <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexxiii" name="pagexxiii"></a>(p. xxiii)</span> changing and +romantic West of the early days lives mainly in story and in song. The +last figure to vanish is the cowboy, the animating spirit of the +vanishing era. He sits his horse easily as he rides through a wide +valley, enclosed by mountains, clad in the hazy purple of coming +night,—with his face turned steadily down the long, long road, "the +road that the sun goes down." Dauntless, reckless, without the +unearthly purity of Sir Galahad though as gentle to a pure woman as +King Arthur, he is truly a knight of the twentieth century. A vagrant +puff of wind shakes a corner of the crimson handkerchief knotted +loosely at his throat; the thud of his pony's feet mingling with the +jingle of his spurs is borne back; and as the careless, gracious, +lovable figure disappears over the divide, the breeze brings to the +ears, faint and far yet cheery still, the refrain of a cowboy song:</p> + +<p> +Whoopee ti yi, git along, little dogies;<br> +<span class="add1em">It's my misfortune and none of your own.</span><br> +Whoopee ti yi, git along, little dogies;<br> +<span class="add1em">For you know Wyoming will be your new home.</span></p> + + +<p>As for the songs of this collection, I have violated the ethics of +ballad-gatherers, in a few instances, by selecting and putting +together what seemed to be the best lines from different versions, all +telling the same story. Frankly, the volume is meant to be popular. +The songs have been arranged in some such haphazard way <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexxiv" name="pagexxiv"></a>(p. xxiv)</span> +as they were collected,—jotted down on a table in the rear of +saloons, scrawled on an envelope while squatting about a campfire, +caught behind the scenes of a broncho-busting outfit. Later, it is +hoped that enough interest will be aroused to justify printing all the +variants of these songs, accompanied by the music and such explanatory +notes as may be useful; the negro folk-songs, the songs of the lumber +jacks, the songs of the mountaineers, and the songs of the sea, +already partially collected, being included in the final publication. +The songs of this collection, never before in print, as a rule have +been taken down from oral recitation. In only a few instances have I +been able to discover the authorship of any song. They seem to have +sprung up as quietly and mysteriously as does the grass on the plains. +All have been popular with the range riders, several being current all +the way from Texas to Montana, and quite as long as the old Chisholm +Trail stretching between these states. Some of the songs the cowboy +certainly composed; all of them he sang. Obviously, a number of the +most characteristic cannot be printed for general circulation. To +paraphrase slightly what Sidney Lanier said of Walt Whitman's poetry, +they are raw collops slashed from the rump of Nature, and never mind +the gristle. Likewise some of the strong adjectives and nouns have +been softened,—Jonahed, as George Meredith would have said. There is, +however, a <span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexxv" name="pagexxv"></a>(p. xxv)</span> Homeric quality about the cowboy's profanity and +vulgarity that pleases rather than repulses. The broad sky under which +he slept, the limitless plains over which he rode, the big, open, free +life he lived near to Nature's breast, taught him simplicity, calm, +directness. He spoke out plainly the impulses of his heart. But as yet +so-called polite society is not quite willing to hear.</p> + +<p>It is entirely impossible to acknowledge the assistance I have +received from many persons. To Professors Barrett Wendell and G.L. +Kittredge, of Harvard, I must gratefully acknowledge constant and +generous encouragement. Messrs. Jeff Hanna, of Meridian, Texas; John +B. Jones, a student of the Agricultural and Mechanical College of +Texas; H. Knight, Sterling City, Texas; John Lang Sinclair, San +Antonio; A.H. Belo & Co., Dallas; Tom Hight, of Mangum, Oklahoma; R. +Bedichek, of Deming, N.M.; Benjamin Wyche, Librarian of the Carnegie +Library, San Antonio; Mrs. M.B. Wight, of Ft. Thomas, Arizona; Dr. +L.W. Payne, Jr., and Dr. Morgan Callaway, Jr., of the University of +Texas; and my brother, R.C. Lomax, Austin;—have rendered me +especially helpful service in furnishing material, for which I also +render grateful thanks.</p> + +<p>Among the negroes, rivermen, miners, soldiers, seamen, lumbermen, +railroad men, and ranchmen of the United States and Canada there are +many indigenous folk-songs not included in this volume. Of some +<span class="pagenum"><a id="pagexxvi" name="pagexxvi"></a>(p. xxvi)</span> +of them I have traces, and I shall surely run them down. I beg +the co-operation of all who are interested in this vital, however +humble, expression of American literature.</p> + +<p><span class="left60">J.A.L.</span><br> +Deming, New Mexico,<br> +August 8, 1910.</p> + + +<h1>COWBOY SONGS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page001" name="page001"></a>(p. 001)</span> + +AND OTHER FRONTIER BALLADS</h1> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE DYING COWBOY<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1">[1]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page003" name="page003"></a>(p. 003)</span></p> + +<p>"O bury me not on the lone prairie,"<br> +These words came low and mournfully<br> +From the pallid lips of a youth who lay<br> +On his dying bed at the close of day.</p> + +<p>He had wailed in pain till o'er his brow<br> +Death's shadows fast were gathering now;<br> +He thought of his home and his loved ones nigh<br> +As the cowboys gathered to see him die.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"O bury me not on the lone prairie<br> + Where the wild cayotes will howl o'er me,<br> + In a narrow grave just six by three,<br> + O bury me not on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p>"In fancy I listen to the well known words<br> +Of the free, wild winds and the song of the birds;<br> +I think of home and the cottage in the bower<br> +And the scenes I loved in my childhood's hour.</p> + +<p>"It matters not, I've oft been told,<br> +Where the body lies when the heart grows cold;<br> +Yet grant, Oh grant this wish to me,<br> +O bury me not on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"O <span class="pagenum"><a id="page004" name="page004"></a>(p. 004)</span> then bury me not on the lone prairie,<br> + In a narrow grave six foot by three,<br> + Where the buffalo paws o'er a prairie sea,<br> + O bury me not on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p>"I've always wished to be laid when I died<br> +In the little churchyard on the green hillside;<br> +By my father's grave, there let mine be,<br> +And bury me not on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p>"Let my death slumber be where my mother's prayer<br> +And a sister's tear will mingle there,<br> +Where my friends can come and weep o'er me;<br> +O bury me not on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"O bury me not on the lone prairie<br> + In a narrow grave just six by three,<br> + Where the buzzard waits and the wind blows free;<br> + Then bury me not on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p>"There is another whose tears may be shed<br> +For one who lies on a prairie bed;<br> +It pained me then and it pains me now;—<br> +She has curled these locks, she has kissed this brow.</p> + +<p>"These locks she has curled, shall the rattlesnake kiss?<br> +This brow she has kissed, shall the cold grave press?<br> +For <span class="pagenum"><a id="page005" name="page005"></a>(p. 005)</span> the sake of the loved ones that will weep for me<br> +O bury me not on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"O bury me not on the lone prairie<br> + Where the wild cayotes will howl o'er me,<br> + Where the buzzard beats and the wind goes free,<br> + O bury me not on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p>"O bury me not," and his voice failed there,<br> +But we took no heed of his dying prayer;<br> +In a narrow grave just six by three<br> +We buried him there on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p>Where the dew-drops glow and the butterflies rest,<br> +And the flowers bloom o'er the prairie's crest;<br> +Where the wild cayote and winds sport free<br> +On a wet saddle blanket lay a cowboy-ee.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"O bury me not on the lone prairie<br> + Where the wild cayotes will howl o'er me,<br> + Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the crow flies free<br> + O bury me not on the lone prairie."</p> + +<p>O we buried him there on the lone prairie<br> +Where the wild rose blooms and the wind blows free,<br> +O his pale young face nevermore to see,—<br> +For we buried him there on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p>Yes, we buried him there on the lone prairie<br> +Where the owl all night hoots mournfully,<br> +And the <span class="pagenum"><a id="page006" name="page006"></a>(p. 006)</span> blizzard beats and the winds blow free<br> +O'er his lowly grave on the lone prairie.</p> + +<p>And the cowboys now as they roam the plain,—<br> +For they marked the spot where his bones were lain,—<br> +Fling a handful of roses o'er his grave,<br> +With a prayer to Him who his soul will save.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"O bury me not on the lone prairie<br> + Where the wolves can howl and growl o'er me;<br> + Fling a handful of roses o'er my grave<br> + With a prayer to Him who my soul will save."</p> + +<h4>The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page007" name="page007"></a>(p. 007)</span> Dying Cowboy</h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/dyingcowboy.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/dyingcowboy.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/dyingcowboy.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/dyingcowboy_full.png"> +<img src="images/dyingcowboy_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Dying cowboy"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page009" name="page009"></a>(p. 009)</span> DAYS OF FORTY-NINE</p> + + +<p>We are gazing now on old Tom Moore,<br> +A relic of bygone days;<br> +'Tis a bummer, too, they call me now,<br> +But what cares I for praise?<br> +It's oft, says I, for the days gone by,<br> +It's oft do I repine<br> +For the days of old when we dug out the gold<br> +In those days of Forty-Nine.</p> + +<p>My comrades they all loved me well,<br> +The jolly, saucy crew;<br> +A few hard cases, I will admit,<br> +Though they were brave and true.<br> +Whatever the pinch, they ne'er would flinch;<br> +They never would fret nor whine,<br> +Like good old bricks they stood the kicks<br> +In the days of Forty-Nine.</p> + +<p>There's old "Aunt Jess," that hard old cuss,<br> +Who never would repent;<br> +He never missed a single meal,<br> +Nor never paid a cent.<br> +But old "Aunt Jess," like all the rest,<br> +At death he did resign,<br> +And in his bloom went up the flume<br> +In the days of Forty-Nine.</p> + +<p>There <span class="pagenum"><a id="page010" name="page010"></a>(p. 010)</span> is Ragshag Jim, the roaring man,<br> +Who could out-roar a buffalo, you bet,<br> +He roared all day and he roared all night,<br> +And I guess he is roaring yet.<br> +One night Jim fell in a prospect hole,—<br> +It was a roaring bad design,—<br> +And in that hole Jim roared out his soul<br> +In the days of Forty-Nine.</p> + +<p>There is Wylie Bill, the funny man,<br> +Who was full of funny tricks,<br> +And when he was in a poker game<br> +He was always hard as bricks.<br> +He would ante you a stud, he would play you a draw,<br> +He'd go you a hatful blind,—<br> +In a struggle with death Bill lost his breath<br> +In the days of Forty-Nine.</p> + +<p>There was New York Jake, the butcher boy,<br> +Who was fond of getting tight.<br> +And every time he got on a spree<br> +He was spoiling for a fight.<br> +One night Jake rampaged against a knife<br> +In the hands of old Bob Sine,<br> +And over Jake they held a wake<br> +In the days of Forty-Nine.</p> + +<p>There was Monte Pete, I'll ne'er forget<br> +The luck he always had,<br> +He would deal for you both day and night<br> +Or <span class="pagenum"><a id="page011" name="page011"></a>(p. 011)</span> as long as he had a scad.<br> +It was a pistol shot that lay Pete out,<br> +It was his last resign,<br> +And it caught Pete dead sure in the door<br> +In the days of Forty-Nine.</p> + +<p>Of all the comrades that I've had<br> +There's none that's left to boast,<br> +And I am left alone in my misery<br> +Like some poor wandering ghost.<br> +And as I pass from town to town,<br> +They call me the rambling sign,<br> +Since the days of old and the days of gold<br> +And the days of Forty-Nine.</p> + + +<h4>Days <span class="pagenum"><a id="page012" name="page012"></a>(p. 012)</span> of Forty-Nine</h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/daysof49.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/daysof49.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/daysof49.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/daysof49_full.png"> +<img src="images/daysof49_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Days of 49"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">JOE BOWERS</p> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page015" name="page015"></a>(p. 015)</span> + +<p>My name is Joe Bowers,<br> +I've got a brother Ike,<br> +I came here from Missouri,<br> +Yes, all the way from Pike.<br> +I'll tell you why I left there<br> +And how I came to roam,<br> +And leave my poor old mammy,<br> +So far away from home.</p> + +<p>I used to love a gal there,<br> +Her name was Sallie Black,<br> +I asked her for to marry me,<br> +She said it was a whack.<br> +She says to me, "Joe Bowers,<br> +Before you hitch for life,<br> +You ought to have a little home<br> +To keep your little wife."</p> + +<p>Says I, "My dearest Sallie,<br> +O Sallie, for your sake,<br> +I'll go to California<br> +And try to raise a stake."<br> +Says she to me, "Joe Bowers,<br> +You are the chap to win,<br> +Give me a kiss to seal the bargain,"—<br> +And I throwed a dozen in.</p> + +<p>I'll never forget my feelings <span class="pagenum"><a id="page016" name="page016"></a>(p. 016)</span><br> +When I bid adieu to all.<br> +Sal, she cotched me round the neck<br> +And I began to bawl.<br> +When I begun they all commenced,<br> +You never heard the like,<br> +How they all took on and cried<br> +The day I left old Pike.</p> + +<p>When I got to this here country<br> +I hadn't nary a red,<br> +I had such wolfish feelings<br> +I wished myself most dead.<br> +At last I went to mining,<br> +Put in my biggest licks,<br> +Came down upon the boulders<br> +Just like a thousand bricks.</p> + +<p>I worked both late and early<br> +In rain and sun and snow,<br> +But I was working for my Sallie<br> +So 'twas all the same to Joe.<br> +I made a very lucky strike<br> +As the gold itself did tell,<br> +For I was working for my Sallie,<br> +The girl I loved so well.</p> + +<p>But one day I got a letter<br> +From my dear, kind brother Ike;<br> +It came from old Missouri,<br> +Yes, all the way from Pike.<br> +It told me the goldarndest news <span class="pagenum"><a id="page017" name="page017"></a>(p. 017)</span><br> +That ever you did hear,<br> +My heart it is a-bustin'<br> +So please excuse this tear.</p> + +<p>I'll tell you what it was, boys,<br> +You'll bust your sides I know;<br> +For when I read that letter<br> +You ought to seen poor Joe.<br> +My knees gave 'way beneath me,<br> +And I pulled out half my hair;<br> +And if you ever tell this now,<br> +You bet you'll hear me swear.</p> + +<p>It said my Sallie was fickle,<br> +Her love for me had fled,<br> +That she had married a butcher,<br> +Whose hair was awful red;<br> +It told me more than that,<br> +It's enough to make me swear,—<br> +It said that Sallie had a baby<br> +And the baby had red hair.</p> + +<p>Now I've told you all that I can tell<br> +About this sad affair,<br> +'Bout Sallie marrying the butcher<br> +And the baby had red hair.<br> +But whether it was a boy or girl<br> +The letter never said,<br> +It only said its cussed hair<br> +Was inclined to be red.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE COWBOY'S DREAM<a id="footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2">[2]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page018" name="page018"></a>(p. 018)</span></p> + +<p>Last night as I lay on the prairie,<br> +And looked at the stars in the sky,<br> +I wondered if ever a cowboy<br> +Would drift to that sweet by and by.</p> + +<p class="add1em">Roll on, roll on;<br> + Roll on, little dogies, roll on, roll on,<br> + Roll on, roll on;<br> + Roll on, little dogies, roll on.</p> + +<p>The road to that bright, happy region<br> +Is a dim, narrow trail, so they say;<br> +But the broad one that leads to perdition<br> +Is posted and blazed all the way.</p> + +<p>They say there will be a great round-up,<br> +And cowboys, like dogies, will stand,<br> +To be marked by the Riders of Judgment<br> +Who are posted and know every brand.</p> + +<p>I know there's many a stray cowboy<br> +Who'll be lost at the great, final sale,<br> +When he might have gone in the green pastures<br> +Had he known of the dim, narrow trail.</p> + +<p>I wonder if ever a cowboy <span class="pagenum"><a id="page019" name="page019"></a>(p. 019)</span><br> +Stood ready for that Judgment Day,<br> +And could say to the Boss of the Riders,<br> +"I'm ready, come drive me away."</p> + +<p>For they, like the cows that are locoed,<br> +Stampede at the sight of a hand,<br> +Are dragged with a rope to the round-up,<br> +Or get marked with some crooked man's brand.</p> + +<p>And I'm scared that I'll be a stray yearling,—<br> +A maverick, unbranded on high,—<br> +And get cut in the bunch with the "rusties"<br> +When the Boss of the Riders goes by.</p> + +<p>For they tell of another big owner<br> +Whose ne'er overstocked, so they say,<br> +But who always makes room for the sinner<br> +Who drifts from the straight, narrow way.</p> + +<p>They say he will never forget you,<br> +That he knows every action and look;<br> +So, for safety, you'd better get branded,<br> +Have your name in the great Tally Book.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE COWBOY'S LIFE<a id="footnotetag3" name="footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3">[3]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page020" name="page020"></a>(p. 020)</span></p> + +<p>The bawl of a steer,<br> +To a cowboy's ear,<br> +Is music of sweetest strain;<br> +And the yelping notes<br> +Of the gray cayotes<br> +To him are a glad refrain.</p> + +<p>And his jolly songs<br> +Speed him along,<br> +As he thinks of the little gal<br> +With golden hair<br> +Who is waiting there<br> +At the bars of the home corral.</p> + +<p>For a kingly crown<br> +In the noisy town<br> +His saddle he wouldn't change;<br> +No life so free<br> +As the life we see<br> +Way out on the Yaso range.</p> + +<p>His eyes are bright<br> +And his heart as light<br> +As the smoke of his cigarette;<br> +There's never a care<br> +For his soul to bear, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page021" name="page021"></a>(p. 021)</span><br> +No trouble to make him fret.</p> + +<p>The rapid beat<br> +Of his broncho's feet<br> +On the sod as he speeds along,<br> +Keeps living time<br> +To the ringing rhyme<br> +Of his rollicking cowboy song.</p> + +<p>Hike it, cowboys,<br> +For the range away<br> +On the back of a bronc of steel,<br> +With a careless flirt<br> +Of the raw-hide quirt<br> +And a dig of a roweled heel!</p> + +<p>The winds may blow<br> +And the thunder growl<br> +Or the breezes may safely moan;—<br> +A cowboy's life<br> +Is a royal life,<br> +His saddle his kingly throne.</p> + +<p>Saddle up, boys,<br> +For the work is play<br> +When love's in the cowboy's eyes,—<br> +When his heart is light<br> +As the clouds of white<br> +That swim in the summer skies.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE KANSAS LINE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page022" name="page022"></a>(p. 022)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you jolly cowmen, don't you want to go<br> +Way up on the Kansas line?<br> +Where you whoop up the cattle from morning till night<br> +All out in the midnight rain.</p> + +<p class="add1em">The cowboy's life is a dreadful life,<br> + He's driven through heat and cold;<br> + I'm almost froze with the water on my clothes,<br> + A-ridin' through heat and cold.</p> + +<p>I've been where the lightnin', the lightnin' tangled in my eyes,<br> +The cattle I could scarcely hold;<br> +Think I heard my boss man say:<br> +"I want all brave-hearted men who ain't afraid to die<br> +To whoop up the cattle from morning till night,<br> +Way up on the Kansas line."</p> + +<p>Speaking of your farms and your shanty charms,<br> +Speaking of your silver and gold,—<br> +Take a cowman's advice, go and marry you a true and lovely little wife,<br> +Never to roam, always stay at home;<br> +That's a cowman's, a cowman's advice, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page023" name="page023"></a>(p. 023)</span><br> +Way up on the Kansas line.</p> + +<p>Think I heard the noisy cook say,<br> +"Wake up, boys, it's near the break of day,"—<br> +Way up on the Kansas line,<br> +And slowly we will rise with the sleepy feeling eyes,<br> +Way up on the Kansas line.</p> + +<p class="add1em">The cowboy's life is a dreary, dreary life,<br> + All out in the midnight rain;<br> + I'm almost froze with the water on my clothes,<br> + Way up on the Kansas line.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE COWMAN'S PRAYER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page024" name="page024"></a>(p. 024)</span></p> + +<p>Now, O Lord, please lend me thine ear,<br> +The prayer of a cattleman to hear,<br> +No doubt the prayers may seem strange,<br> +But I want you to bless our cattle range.</p> + +<p>Bless the round-ups year by year,<br> +And don't forget the growing steer;<br> +Water the lands with brooks and rills<br> +For my cattle that roam on a thousand hills.</p> + +<p>Prairie fires, won't you please stop?<br> +Let thunder roll and water drop.<br> +It frightens me to see the smoke;<br> +Unless it's stopped, I'll go dead broke.</p> + +<p>As you, O Lord, my herd behold,<br> +It represents a sack of gold;<br> +I think at least five cents a pound<br> +Will be the price of beef the year around.</p> + +<p>One thing more and then I'm through,—<br> +Instead of one calf, give my cows two.<br> +I may pray different from other men<br> +But I've had my say, and now, Amen.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE MINER'S SONG<a id="footnotetag4" name="footnotetag4"></a><a href="#footnote4">[4]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page025" name="page025"></a>(p. 025)</span></p> + +<p>In a rusty, worn-out cabin sat a broken-hearted leaser,<br> +His singlejack was resting on his knee.<br> +His old "buggy" in the corner told the same old plaintive tale,<br> +His ore had left in all his poverty.<br> +He lifted his old singlejack, gazed on its battered face,<br> +And said: "Old boy, I know we're not to blame;<br> +Our gold has us forsaken, some other path it's taken,<br> +But I still believe we'll strike it just the same.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"We'll strike it, yes, we'll strike it just the same,<br> + Although it's gone into some other's claim.<br> + My dear old boy don't mind it, we won't starve if we don't find it,<br> + And we'll drill and shoot and find it just the same.</p> + +<p>"For forty years I've hammered steel and tried to make a strike,<br> +I've burned twice the powder Custer ever saw.<br> +I've made just coin enough to keep poorer than a snake.<br> +My jack's ate all my books on mining law.<br> +I've <span class="pagenum"><a id="page026" name="page026"></a>(p. 026)</span> worn gunny-sacks for overalls, and 'California socks,'<br> +I've burned candles that would reach from here to Maine,<br> +I've lived on powder, smoke, and bacon, that's no lie, boy, I'm not fakin',<br> +But I still believe we'll strike it just the same.</p> + +<p>"Last night as I lay sleeping in the midst of all my dream<br> +My assay ran six ounces clear in gold,<br> +And the silver it ran clean sixteen ounces to the seam,<br> +And the poor old miner's joy could scarce be told.<br> +I lay there, boy, I could not sleep, I had a feverish brow,<br> +Got up, went back, and put in six holes more.<br> +And then, boy, I was chokin' just to see the ground I'd broken;<br> +But alas! alas! the miner's dream was o'er.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"We'll strike it, yes, we'll strike it just the same,<br> + Although it's gone into some other's claim.<br> + My dear old boy, don't mind it, we won't starve if we don't find it,<br> + And I still believe I'll strike it just the same."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">JESSE JAMES <span class="pagenum"><a id="page027" name="page027"></a>(p. 027)</span></p> + +<p>Jesse James was a lad that killed a-many a man;<br> +He robbed the Danville train.<br> +But that dirty little coward that shot Mr. Howard<br> +Has laid poor Jesse in his grave.</p> + +<p class="add2em">Poor Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life,<br> + Three children, they were brave.<br> + But that dirty little coward that shot Mr. Howard<br> + Has laid poor Jesse in his grave.</p> + +<p>It was Robert Ford, that dirty little coward,<br> +I wonder how he does feel,<br> +For he ate of Jesse's bread and he slept in Jesse's bed,<br> +Then laid poor Jesse in his grave.</p> + +<p>Jesse was a man, a friend to the poor,<br> +He never would see a man suffer pain;<br> +And with his brother Frank he robbed the Chicago bank,<br> +And stopped the Glendale train.</p> + +<p>It was his brother Frank that robbed the Gallatin bank,<br> +And carried the money from the town;<br> +It was in this very place that they had a little race,<br> +For they shot Captain Sheets to the ground.</p> + +<p>They <span class="pagenum"><a id="page028" name="page028"></a>(p. 028)</span> went to the crossing not very far from there,<br> +And there they did the same;<br> +With the agent on his knees, he delivered up the keys<br> +To the outlaws, Frank and Jesse James.</p> + +<p>It was on Wednesday night, the moon was shining bright,<br> +They robbed the Glendale train;<br> +The people they did say, for many miles away,<br> +It was robbed by Frank and Jesse James.</p> + +<p>It was on Saturday night, Jesse was at home<br> +Talking with his family brave,<br> +Robert Ford came along like a thief in the night<br> +And laid poor Jesse in his grave.</p> + +<p>The people held their breath when they heard of Jesse's death,<br> +And wondered how he ever came to die.<br> +It was one of the gang called little Robert Ford,<br> +He shot poor Jesse on the sly.</p> + +<p>Jesse went to his rest with his hand on his breast;<br> +The devil will be upon his knee.<br> +He was born one day in the county of Clay<br> +And came from a solitary race.</p> + +<p>This song was made by Billy Gashade,<br> +As soon as the news did arrive;<br> +He said there was no man with the law in his hand<br> +Who could take Jesse James when alive.</p> + +<h4>Jesse James <span class="pagenum"><a id="page029" name="page029"></a>(p. 029)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/jessejames.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/jessejames.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/jessejames.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/jessejames_full.png"> +<img src="images/jessejames_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Jesse James"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">POOR LONESOME COWBOY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page032" name="page032"></a>(p. 032)</span></p> + +<p>I ain't got no father,<br> +I ain't got no father,<br> +I ain't got no father,<br> +To buy the clothes I wear.</p> + +<p class="add2em">I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy,<br> + I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy,<br> + I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy<br> + And a long ways from home.</p> + +<p>I ain't got no mother,<br> +I ain't got no mother,<br> +I ain't got no mother<br> +To mend the clothes I wear.</p> + +<p>I ain't got no sister,<br> +I ain't got no sister,<br> +I ain't got no sister<br> +To go and play with me.</p> + +<p>I ain't got no brother,<br> +I ain't got no brother,<br> +I ain't got no brother<br> +To drive the steers with me.</p> + +<p>I ain't got no sweetheart, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page033" name="page033"></a>(p. 033)</span><br> +I ain't got no sweetheart,<br> +I ain't got no sweetheart<br> +To sit and talk with me.</p> + +<p class="add2em">I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy,<br> + I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy,<br> + I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy<br> + And a long ways from home.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">BUENA VISTA BATTLEFIELD <span class="pagenum"><a id="page034" name="page034"></a>(p. 034)</span></p> + +<p>On Buena Vista battlefield<br> +A dying soldier lay,<br> +His thoughts were on his mountain home<br> +Some thousand miles away.<br> +He called his comrade to his side,<br> +For much he had to say,<br> +In briefest words to those who were<br> +Some thousand miles away.</p> + +<p>"My father, comrade, you will tell<br> +About this bloody fray;<br> +My country's flag, you'll say to him,<br> +Was safe with me to-day.<br> +I make a pillow of it now<br> +On which to lay my head,<br> +A winding sheet you'll make of it<br> +When I am with the dead.</p> + +<p>"I know 'twill grieve his inmost soul<br> +To think I never more<br> +Will sit with him beneath the oak<br> +That shades the cottage door;<br> +But tell that time-worn patriot,<br> +That, mindful of his fame,<br> +Upon this bloody battlefield<br> +I sullied not his name.</p> + +<p>"My <span class="pagenum"><a id="page035" name="page035"></a>(p. 035)</span> mother's form is with me now,<br> +Her will is in my ear,<br> +And drop by drop as flows my blood<br> +So flows from her the tear.<br> +And oh, when you shall tell to her<br> +The tidings of this day,<br> +Speak softly, comrade, softly speak<br> +What you may have to say.</p> + +<p>"Speak not to her in blighting words<br> +The blighting news you bear,<br> +The cords of life might snap too soon,<br> +So, comrade, have a care.<br> +I am her only, cherished child,<br> +But tell her that I died<br> +Rejoicing that she taught me young<br> +To take my country's side.</p> + +<p>"But, comrade, there's one more,<br> +She's gentle as a fawn;<br> +She lives upon the sloping hill<br> +That overlooks the lawn,<br> +The lawn where I shall never more<br> +Go forth with her in merry mood<br> +To gather wild-wood flowers.</p> + +<p>"Tell her when death was on my brow<br> +And life receding fast,<br> +Her looks, her form was with me then,<br> +Were with me to the last.<br> +On <span class="pagenum"><a id="page036" name="page036"></a>(p. 036)</span> Buena Vista's bloody field<br> +Tell her I dying lay,<br> +And that I knew she thought of me<br> +Some thousand miles away."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">WESTWARD HO <span class="pagenum"><a id="page037" name="page037"></a>(p. 037)</span></p> + +<p>I love not Colorado<br> +Where the faro table grows,<br> +And down the desperado<br> +The rippling Bourbon flows;</p> + +<p>Nor seek I fair Montana<br> +Of bowie-lunging fame;<br> +The pistol ring of fair Wyoming<br> +I leave to nobler game.</p> + +<p>Sweet poker-haunted Kansas<br> +In vain allures the eye;<br> +The Nevada rough has charms enough<br> +Yet its blandishments I fly.</p> + +<p>Shall Arizona woo me<br> +Where the meek Apache bides?<br> +Or New Mexico where natives grow<br> +With arrow-proof insides?</p> + +<p>Nay, 'tis where the grizzlies wander<br> +And the lonely diggers roam,<br> +And the grim Chinese from the squatter flees<br> +That I'll make my humble home.</p> + +<p>I'll chase the wild tarantula<br> +And the fierce cayote I'll dare,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page038" name="page038"></a>(p. 038)</span> the locust grim, I'll battle him<br> +In his native wildwood lair.</p> + +<p>Or I'll seek the gulch deserted<br> +And dream of the wild Red man,<br> +And I'll build a cot on a corner lot<br> +And get rich as soon as I can.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">A HOME ON THE RANGE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page039" name="page039"></a>(p. 039)</span></p> + +<p>Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam,<br> +Where the deer and the antelope play,<br> +Where seldom is heard a discouraging word<br> +And the skies are not cloudy all day.</p> + +<p class="add1em">Home, home on the range,<br> + Where the deer and the antelope play;<br> + Where seldom is heard a discouraging word<br> + And the skies are not cloudy all day.</p> + +<p>Where the air is so pure, the zephyrs so free,<br> +The breezes so balmy and light,<br> +That I would not exchange my home on the range<br> +For all of the cities so bright.</p> + +<p>The red man was pressed from this part of the West,<br> +He's likely no more to return<br> +To the banks of Red River where seldom if ever<br> +Their flickering camp-fires burn.</p> + +<p>How often at night when the heavens are bright<br> +With the light from the glittering stars,<br> +Have I stood here amazed and asked as I gazed<br> +If their glory exceeds that of ours.</p> + +<p>Oh, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page040" name="page040"></a>(p. 040)</span> I love these wild flowers in this dear land of ours,<br> +The curlew I love to hear scream,<br> +And I love the white rocks and the antelope flocks<br> +That graze on the mountain-tops green.</p> + +<p>Oh, give me a land where the bright diamond sand<br> +Flows leisurely down the stream;<br> +Where the graceful white swan goes gliding along<br> +Like a maid in a heavenly dream.</p> + +<p>Then I would not exchange my home on the range,<br> +Where the deer and the antelope play;<br> +Where seldom is heard a discouraging word<br> +And the skies are not cloudy all day.</p> + +<p class="add1em">Home, home on the range,<br> + Where the deer and the antelope play;<br> + Where seldom is heard a discouraging word<br> + And the skies are not cloudy all day.</p> + +<h4>Home on the Range <span class="pagenum"><a id="page041" name="page041"></a>(p. 041)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/homeontherange.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/homeontherange.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/homeontherange.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/homeontherange_full.png"> +<img src="images/homeontherange_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Home on the range"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">TEXAS RANGERS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page044" name="page044"></a>(p. 044)</span></p> + +<p>Come, all you Texas rangers, wherever you may be,<br> +I'll tell you of some troubles that happened unto me.<br> +My name is nothing extra, so it I will not tell,—<br> +And here's to all you rangers, I am sure I wish you well.</p> + +<p>It was at the age of sixteen that I joined the jolly band,<br> +We marched from San Antonio down to the Rio Grande.<br> +Our captain he informed us, perhaps he thought it right,<br> +"Before we reach the station, boys, you'll surely have to fight."</p> + +<p>And when the bugle sounded our captain gave command,<br> +"To arms, to arms," he shouted, "and by your horses stand."<br> +I saw the smoke ascending, it seemed to reach the sky;<br> +The first thought that struck me, my time had come to die.</p> + +<p>I saw the Indians coming, I heard them give the yell;<br> +My feelings at that moment, no tongue can ever tell.<br> +I <span class="pagenum"><a id="page045" name="page045"></a>(p. 045)</span> saw the glittering lances, their arrows round me flew,<br> +And all my strength it left me and all my courage too.</p> + +<p>We fought full nine hours before the strife was o'er,<br> +The like of dead and wounded I never saw before.<br> +And when the sun was rising and the Indians they had fled,<br> +We loaded up our rifles and counted up our dead.</p> + +<p>And all of us were wounded, our noble captain slain,<br> +And the sun was shining sadly across the bloody plain.<br> +Sixteen as brave rangers as ever roamed the West<br> +Were buried by their comrades with arrows in their breast.</p> + +<p>'Twas then I thought of mother, who to me in tears did say,<br> +"To you they are all strangers, with me you had better stay."<br> +I thought that she was childish, the best she did not know;<br> +My mind was fixed on ranging and I was bound to go.</p> + +<p>Perhaps you have a mother, likewise a sister too,<br> +And maybe you have a sweetheart to weep and mourn for you;<br> +If <span class="pagenum"><a id="page046" name="page046"></a>(p. 046)</span> that be your situation, although you'd like to roam,<br> +I'd advise you by experience, you had better stay at home.</p> + +<p>I have seen the fruits of rambling, I know its hardships well;<br> +I have crossed the Rocky Mountains, rode down the streets of hell;<br> +I have been in the great Southwest where the wild Apaches roam,<br> +And I tell you from experience you had better stay at home.</p> + +<p>And now my song is ended; I guess I have sung enough;<br> +The life of a ranger I am sure is very tough.<br> +And here's to all you ladies, I am sure I wish you well,<br> +I am bound to go a-ranging, so ladies, fare you well.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE MORMON BISHOP'S LAMENT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page047" name="page047"></a>(p. 047)</span></p> + +<p>I am a Mormon bishop and I will tell you what I know.<br> +I joined the confraternity some forty years ago.<br> +I then had youth upon my brow and eloquence my tongue,<br> +But I had the sad misfortune then to meet with Brigham Young.</p> + +<p>He said, "Young man, come join our band and bid hard work farewell,<br> +You are too smart to waste your time in toil by hill and dell;<br> +There is a ripening harvest and our hooks shall find the fool<br> +And in the distant nations we shall train them in our school."</p> + +<p>I listened to his preaching and I learned all the role,<br> +And the truth of Mormon doctrines burned deep within my soul.<br> +I married sixteen women and I spread my new belief,<br> +I was sent to preach the gospel to the pauper and the thief.</p> + +<p>'Twas in the glorious days when Brigham was our only Lord and King,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page048" name="page048"></a>(p. 048)</span> his wild cry of defiance from the Wasatch tops did ring,<br> +'Twas when that bold Bill Hickman and that Porter Rockwell led,<br> +And in the blood atonements the pits received the dead.</p> + +<p>They took in Dr. Robertson and left him in his gore,<br> +And the Aiken brothers sleep in peace on Nephi's distant shore.<br> +We marched to Mountain Meadows and on that glorious field<br> +With rifle and with hatchet we made man and woman yield.</p> + +<p>'Twas there we were victorious with our legions fierce and brave.<br> +We left the butchered victims on the ground without a grave.<br> +We slew the load of emigrants on Sublet's lonely road<br> +And plundered many a trader of his then most precious load.</p> + +<p>Alas for all the powers that were in the by-gone time.<br> +What we did as deeds of glory are condemned as bloody crime.<br> +No <span class="pagenum"><a id="page049" name="page049"></a>(p. 049)</span> more the blood atonements keep the doubting one in fear,<br> +While the faithful were rewarded with a wedding once a year.</p> + +<p>As the nation's chieftain president says our days of rule are o'er<br> +And his marshals with their warrants are on watch at every door,<br> +Old John he now goes skulking on the by-roads of our land,<br> +Or unknown he keeps in hiding with the faithful of our band.</p> + +<p>Old Brigham now is stretched beneath the cold and silent clay,<br> +And the chieftains now are fallen that were mighty in their day;<br> +Of the six and twenty women that I wedded long ago<br> +There are two now left to cheer me in these awful hours of woe.<br> +The rest are scattered where the Gentile's flag's unfurled<br> +And two score of my daughters are now numbered with the world.</p> + +<p>Oh, my poor old bones are aching and my head is turning gray;<br> +Oh, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page050" name="page050"></a>(p. 050)</span> the scenes were black and awful that I've witnessed in my day.<br> +Let my spirit seek the mansion where old Brigham's gone to dwell,<br> +For there's no place for Mormons but the lowest pits of hell.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">DAN TAYLOR <span class="pagenum"><a id="page051" name="page051"></a>(p. 051)</span></p> + +<p>Dan Taylor is a rollicking cuss,<br> +A frisky son of a gun,<br> +He loves to court the maidens<br> +And he savies how it's done.</p> + +<p>He used to be a cowboy<br> +And they say he wasn't slow,<br> +He could ride the bucking bronco<br> +And swing the long lasso.</p> + +<p>He could catch a maverick by the head<br> +Or heel him on the fly,<br> +He could pick up his front ones<br> +Whenever he chose to try.</p> + +<p>He used to ride most anything;<br> +Now he seldom will.<br> +He says they cut some caper in the air<br> +Of which he's got his fill.</p> + +<p>He is done and quit the business,<br> +Settled down to quiet life,<br> +And he's hunting for some maiden<br> +Who will be his little wife,—</p> + +<p>One <span class="pagenum"><a id="page052" name="page052"></a>(p. 052)</span> who will wash and patch his britches<br> +And feed the setting hen,<br> +Milk old Blue and Brindy,<br> +And tend to baby Ben.</p> + +<p>Then he'll build a cozy cottage<br> +And furnish it complete,<br> +He'll decorate the walls inside<br> +With pictures new and sweet.</p> + +<p>He will leave off riding broncos<br> +And be a different man;<br> +He will do his best to please his wife<br> +In every way he can.</p> + +<p>Then together in double harness<br> +They will trot along down the line,<br> +Until death shall call them over<br> +To a bright and sunny clime.</p> + +<p>May your joys be then completed<br> +And your sorrows have amend,<br> +Is the fondest wish of the writer,—<br> +Your true and faithful friend.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">WHEN WORK IS DONE THIS FALL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page053" name="page053"></a>(p. 053)</span></p> + +<p>A group of jolly cowboys, discussing plans at ease,<br> +Says one, "I'll tell you something, boys, if you will listen, please.<br> +I am an old cow-puncher and here I'm dressed in rags,<br> +And I used to be a tough one and take on great big jags.</p> + +<p>"But I've got a home, boys, a good one, you all know,<br> +Although I have not seen it since long, long ago.<br> +I'm going back to Dixie once more to see them all;<br> +Yes, I'm going to see my mother when the work's all done this fall.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"After the round-ups are over and after the shipping is done,<br> +I am going right straight home, boys, ere all my money is gone.<br> +I have changed my ways, boys, no more will I fall;<br> +And I am going home, boys, when work is done this fall.</p> + +<p>"When I left home, boys, my mother for me cried,<br> +Begged me not to go, boys, for me she would have died;<br> +My <span class="pagenum"><a id="page054" name="page054"></a>(p. 054)</span> mother's heart is breaking, breaking for me, that's all,<br> +And with God's help I'll see her when the work's all done this fall."</p> + +<p>That very night this cowboy went out to stand his guard;<br> +The night was dark and cloudy and storming very hard;<br> +The cattle they got frightened and rushed in wild stampede,<br> +The cowboy tried to head them, riding at full speed.</p> + +<p>While riding in the darkness so loudly did he shout,<br> +Trying his best to head them and turn the herd about,<br> +His saddle horse did stumble and on him did fall,<br> +The poor boy won't see his mother when the work's all done this fall.</p> + +<p>His body was so mangled the boys all thought him dead,<br> +They picked him up so gently and laid him on a bed;<br> +He opened wide his blue eyes and looking all around<br> +He motioned to his comrades to sit near him on the ground.</p> + +<p>"Boys, send mother my wages, the wages I have earned,<br> +For I'm afraid, boys, my last steer I have turned.<br> +I'm <span class="pagenum"><a id="page055" name="page055"></a>(p. 055)</span> going to a new range, I hear my Master's call,<br> +And I'll not see my mother when the work's all done this fall.</p> + +<p>"Fred, you take my saddle; George, you take my bed;<br> +Bill, you take my pistol after I am dead,<br> +And think of me kindly when you look upon them all,<br> +For I'll not see my mother when work is done this fall."</p> + +<p>Poor Charlie was buried at sunrise, no tombstone at his head,<br> +Nothing but a little board and this is what it said,<br> +"Charlie died at daybreak, he died from a fall,<br> +And he'll not see his mother when the work's all done this fall."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">SIOUX INDIANS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page056" name="page056"></a>(p. 056)</span></p> + +<p>I'll sing you a song, though it may be a sad one,<br> +Of trials and troubles and where they first begun;<br> +I left my dear kindred, my friends, and my home,<br> +Across the wild deserts and mountains to roam.</p> + +<p>I crossed the Missouri and joined a large train<br> +Which bore us over mountain and valley and plain;<br> +And often of evenings out hunting we'd go<br> +To shoot the fleet antelope and wild buffalo.</p> + +<p>We heard of Sioux Indians all out on the plains<br> +A-killing poor drivers and burning their trains,—<br> +A-killing poor drivers with arrows and bow,<br> +When captured by Indians no mercy they show.</p> + +<p>We traveled three weeks till we came to the Platte<br> +And pitched out our tents at the end of the flat,<br> +We spread down our blankets on the green grassy ground,<br> +While our horses and mules were grazing around.</p> + +<p>While taking refreshment we heard a low yell,<br> +The whoop of Sioux Indians coming up from the dell;<br> +We sprang to our rifles with a flash in each eye,<br> +"Boys," says our brave leader, "we'll fight till we die."</p> + +<p>They <span class="pagenum"><a id="page057" name="page057"></a>(p. 057)</span> made a bold dash and came near to our train<br> +And the arrows fell around us like hail and like rain,<br> +But with our long rifles we fed them cold lead<br> +Till many a brave warrior around us lay dead.</p> + +<p>We shot their bold chief at the head of his band.<br> +He died like a warrior with a gun in his hand.<br> +When they saw their bold chief lying dead in his gore,<br> +They whooped and they yelled and we saw them no more.</p> + +<p>With our small band,—there were just twenty-four,—<br> +And the Sioux Indians there were five hundred or more,—<br> +We fought them with courage; we spoke not a word,<br> +Till the end of the battle was all that was heard.</p> + +<p>We hitched up our horses and we started our train;<br> +Three more bloody battles this trip on the plain;<br> +And in our last battle three of our brave boys fell,<br> +And we left them to rest in a green, shady dell.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE OLD CHISHOLM TRAIL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page058" name="page058"></a>(p. 058)</span></p> + +<p>Come along, boys, and listen to my tale,<br> +I'll tell you of my troubles on the old Chisholm trail.</p> + +<p class="add2em">Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya,<br> + Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya.</p> + +<p>I started up the trail October twenty-third,<br> +I started up the trail with the 2-U herd.</p> + +<p>Oh, a ten dollar hoss and a forty dollar saddle,—<br> +And I'm goin' to punchin' Texas cattle.</p> + +<p>I woke up one morning on the old Chisholm trail,<br> +Rope in my hand and a cow by the tail.</p> + +<p>I'm up in the mornin' afore daylight<br> +And afore I sleep the moon shines bright.</p> + +<p>Old Ben Bolt was a blamed good boss,<br> +But he'd go to see the girls on a sore-backed hoss.</p> + +<p>Old Ben Bolt was a fine old man<br> +And you'd know there was whiskey wherever he'd land.</p> + +<p>My <span class="pagenum"><a id="page059" name="page059"></a>(p. 059)</span> hoss throwed me off at the creek called Mud,<br> +My hoss throwed me off round the 2-U herd.</p> + +<p>Last time I saw him he was going cross the level<br> +A-kicking up his heels and a-running like the devil.</p> + +<p>It's cloudy in the West, a-looking like rain,<br> +And my damned old slicker's in the wagon again.</p> + +<p>Crippled my hoss, I don't know how,<br> +Ropin' at the horns of a 2-U cow.</p> + +<p>We hit Caldwell and we hit her on the fly,<br> +We bedded down the cattle on the hill close by.</p> + +<p>No chaps, no slicker, and it's pouring down rain,<br> +And I swear, by god, I'll never night-herd again.</p> + +<p>Feet in the stirrups and seat in the saddle,<br> +I hung and rattled with them long-horn cattle.</p> + +<p>Last night I was on guard and the leader broke the ranks,<br> +I hit my horse down the shoulders and I spurred him in the flanks.</p> + +<p>The wind commenced to blow, and the rain began to fall,<br> +Hit looked, by grab, like we was goin' to loss 'em all.</p> + +<p>I <span class="pagenum"><a id="page060" name="page060"></a>(p. 060)</span> jumped in the saddle and grabbed holt the horn,<br> +Best blamed cow-puncher ever was born.</p> + +<p>I popped my foot in the stirrup and gave a little yell,<br> +The tail cattle broke and the leaders went to hell.</p> + +<p>I don't give a damn if they never do stop;<br> +I'll ride as long as an eight-day clock.</p> + +<p>Foot in the stirrup and hand on the horn,<br> +Best damned cowboy ever was born.</p> + +<p>I herded and I hollered and I done very well,<br> +Till the boss said, "Boys, just let 'em go to hell."</p> + +<p>Stray in the herd and the boss said kill it,<br> +So I shot him in the rump with the handle of the skillet.</p> + +<p>We rounded 'em up and put 'em on the cars,<br> +And that was the last of the old Two Bars.</p> + +<p>Oh it's bacon and beans most every day,—<br> +I'd as soon be a-eatin' prairie hay.</p> + +<p>I'm on my best horse and I'm goin' at a run,<br> +I'm the quickest shootin' cowboy that ever pulled a gun.</p> + +<p>I went to the wagon to get my roll,<br> +To come back to Texas, dad-burn my soul.</p> + +<p>I <span class="pagenum"><a id="page061" name="page061"></a>(p. 061)</span> went to the boss to draw my roll,<br> +He had it figgered out I was nine dollars in the hole.</p> + +<p>I'll sell my outfit just as soon as I can,<br> +I won't punch cattle for no damned man.</p> + +<p>Goin' back to town to draw my money,<br> +Goin' back home to see my honey.</p> + +<p>With my knees in the saddle and my seat in the sky,<br> +I'll quit punching cows in the sweet by and by.</p> + +<p class="add2em">Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya,<br> + Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya.</p> + + +<h4>The Old Chisholm Trail <span class="pagenum"><a id="page062" name="page062"></a>(p. 062)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/oldchisholmtrail.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/oldchisholmtrail.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/oldchisholmtrail.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/oldchisholmtrail_full.png"> +<img src="images/oldchisholmtrail_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Old Chisholm Trail"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">JACK DONAHOO <span class="pagenum"><a id="page064" name="page064"></a>(p. 064)</span></p> + +<p>Come, all you bold, undaunted men,<br> +You outlaws of the day,<br> +It's time to beware of the ball and chain<br> +And also slavery.<br> +Attention pay to what I say,<br> +And verily if you do,<br> +I will relate you the actual fate<br> +Of bold Jack Donahoo.</p> + +<p>He had scarcely landed, as I tell you,<br> +Upon Australia's shore,<br> +Than he became a real highwayman,<br> +As he had been before.<br> +There was Underwood and Mackerman,<br> +And Wade and Westley too,<br> +These were the four associates<br> +Of bold Jack Donahoo.</p> + +<p>Jack Donahoo, who was so brave,<br> +Rode out that afternoon,<br> +Knowing not that the pain of death<br> +Would overtake him soon.<br> +So quickly then the horse police<br> +From Sidney came to view;<br> +"Begone from here, you cowardly dogs,"<br> +Says bold Jack Donahoo.</p> + +<p>The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page065" name="page065"></a>(p. 065)</span> captain and the sergeant<br> +Stopped then to decide.<br> +"Do you intend to fight us<br> +Or unto us resign?"<br> +"To surrender to such cowardly dogs<br> +Is more than I will do,<br> +This day I'll fight if I lose my life,"<br> +Says bold Jack Donahoo.</p> + +<p>The captain and the sergeant<br> +The men they did divide;<br> +They fired from behind him<br> +And also from each side;<br> +It's six police he did shoot down<br> +Before the fatal ball<br> +Did pierce the heart of Donahoo<br> +And cause bold Jack to fall.</p> + +<p>And when he fell, he closed his eyes,<br> +He bid the world adieu;<br> +Come, all you boys, and sing the song<br> +Of bold Jack Donahoo.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">UTAH CARROLL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page066" name="page066"></a>(p. 066)</span></p> + +<p>And as, my friend, you ask me what makes me sad and still,<br> +And why my brow is darkened like the clouds upon the hill;<br> +Run in your pony closer and I'll tell to you the tale<br> +Of Utah Carroll, my partner, and his last ride on the trail.</p> + +<p>'Mid the cactus and the thistles of Mexico's fair lands,<br> +Where the cattle roam in thousands, a-many a herd and brand,<br> +There is a grave with neither headstone, neither date nor name,—<br> +There lies my partner sleeping in the land from which I came.</p> + +<p>We rode the range together and had rode it side by side;<br> +I loved him as a brother, I wept when Utah died;<br> +We were rounding up one morning, our work was almost done,<br> +When on the side the cattle started on a mad and fearless run.</p> + +<p>The boss man's little daughter was holding on that side.<br> +She <span class="pagenum"><a id="page067" name="page067"></a>(p. 067)</span> rushed; the cattle saw the blanket, they charged with maddened fear.<br> +And little Varro, seeing the danger, turned her pony a pace<br> +And leaning in the saddle, tied the blanket in its place.</p> + +<p>In leaning, she lost her balance and fell in front of that wild tide.<br> +Utah's voice controlled the round-up. "Lay still, little Varro," he cried.<br> +His only hope was to raise her, to catch her at full speed,<br> +And oft-times he had been known to catch the trail rope off his steed.</p> + +<p>His pony reached the maiden with a firm and steady bound;<br> +Utah swung out from the saddle to catch her from the ground.<br> +He swung out from the saddle, I thought her safe from harm,<br> +As he swung in his saddle to raise her in his arm.</p> + +<p>But the cinches of his saddle had not been felt before,<br> +And his back cinch snapt asunder and he fell by the side of Varro.<br> +He picked up the blanket and swung it over his head<br> +And started across the prairie; "Lay still, little Varro," he said.</p> + +<p>Well, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page068" name="page068"></a>(p. 068)</span> he got the stampede turned and saved little Varro, his friend.<br> +Then he turned to face the cattle and meet his fatal end.<br> +His six-shooter from his pocket, from the scabbard he quickly drew,—<br> +He was bound to die defended as all young cowboys do.</p> + +<p>His six-shooter flashed like lightning, the report rang loud and clear;<br> +As the cattle rushed in and killed him he dropped the leading steer.<br> +And when we broke the circle where Utah's body lay,<br> +With many a wound and bruise his young life ebbed away.</p> + +<p>"And in some future morning," I heard the preacher say,<br> +"I hope we'll all meet Utah at the round-up far away."<br> +Then we wrapped him in a blanket sent by his little friend,<br> +And it was that very red blanket that brought him to his end.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE BULL-WHACKER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page069" name="page069"></a>(p. 069)</span></p> + +<p>I'm a lonely bull-whacker<br> +On the Red Cloud line,<br> +I can lick any son of a gun<br> +That will yoke an ox of mine.<br> +And if I can catch him,<br> +You bet I will or try,<br> +I'd lick him with an ox-bow,—<br> +Root hog or die.</p> + +<p>It's out on the road<br> +With a very heavy load,<br> +With a very awkward team<br> +And a very muddy road,<br> +You may whip and you may holler,<br> +But if you cuss it's on the sly;<br> +Then whack the cattle on, boys,—<br> +Root hog or die.</p> + +<p>It's out on the road<br> +These sights are to be seen,<br> +The antelope and buffalo,<br> +The prairie all so green,—<br> +The antelope and buffalo,<br> +The rabbit jumps so high;<br> +It's whack the cattle on, boys,—<br> +Root hog or die.</p> + +<p>It's <span class="pagenum"><a id="page070" name="page070"></a>(p. 070)</span> every day at twelve<br> +There's something for to do;<br> +And if there's nothing else,<br> +There's a pony for to shoe;<br> +I'll throw him down,<br> +And still I'll make him lie;<br> +Little pig, big pig,<br> +Root hog or die.</p> + +<p>Now perhaps you'd like to know<br> +What we have to eat,<br> +A little piece of bread<br> +And a little dirty meat,<br> +A little black coffee,<br> +And whiskey on the sly;<br> +It's whack the cattle on, boys,—<br> +Root hog or die.</p> + +<p>There's hard old times on Bitter Creek<br> +That never can be beat,<br> +It was root hog or die<br> +Under every wagon sheet;<br> +We cleaned up all the Indians,<br> +Drank all the alkali,<br> +And it's whack the cattle on, boys,—<br> +Root hog or die.</p> + +<p>There was good old times in Salt Lake<br> +That never can pass by,<br> +It was there I first spied<br> +My China girl called Wi.<br> +She <span class="pagenum"><a id="page071" name="page071"></a>(p. 071)</span> could smile, she could chuckle,<br> +She could roll her hog eye;<br> +Then it's whack the cattle on, boys,—<br> +Root hog or die.</p> + +<p>Oh, I'm going home<br> +Bull-whacking for to spurn,<br> +I ain't got a nickel,<br> +And I don't give a dern.<br> +'Tis when I meet a pretty girl,<br> +You bet I will or try,<br> +I'll make her my little wife,—<br> +Root hog or die.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE "METIS" SONG OF THE BUFFALO HUNTERS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page072" name="page072"></a>(p. 072)</span><br> + +<span class="add2em">By Robideau</span></p> + +<p>Hurrah for the buffalo hunters!<br> +<span class="add2em">Hurrah for the cart brigade!</span><br> +That creak along on its winding way,<br> +<span class="add2em">While we dance and sing and play.</span><br> +Hurrah, hurrah for the cart brigade!</p> + +<p>Hurrah for the Pembinah hunters!<br> +<span class="add2em">Hurrah for its cart brigade!</span><br> +For with horse and gun we roll along<br> +<span class="add2em">O'er mountain and hill and plain.</span><br> +Hurrah, hurrah for the cart brigade!</p> + +<p>We whipped the Sioux and scalped them too,<br> +<span class="add2em">While on the western plain,</span><br> +And rode away on our homeward way<br> +<span class="add2em">With none to say us nay,—</span><br> +Hurrah, hurrah for the cart brigade! Hurrah!</p> + +<p>Mon ami, mon ami, hurrah for our black-haired girls!<br> +<span class="add2em">That braved the Sioux and fought them too,</span><br> +While on Montana's plains.<br> +<span class="add2em">We'll hold them true and love them too,</span><br> +While <span class="pagenum"><a id="page073" name="page073"></a>(p. 073)</span> on the trail of the Pembinah, hurrah!<br> +<span class="add2em">Hurrah, hurrah for the cart brigade of Pembinah!</span></p> + +<p>We have the skins and the meat so sweet.<br> +<span class="add2em">And we'll sit by the fire in the lodge so neat,</span><br> +While the wind blows cold and the snow is deep.<br> +<span class="add2em">Then roll in our robes and laugh as we sleep.</span><br> +Hurrah, hurrah for the cart brigade! Hurrah!<br> +<span class="add4em">Hurrah! Hurrah!</span></p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE COWBOY'S LAMENT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page074" name="page074"></a>(p. 074)</span></p> + +<p>As I walked out in the streets of Laredo,<br> +As I walked out in Laredo one day,<br> +I spied a poor cowboy wrapped up in white linen,<br> +Wrapped up in white linen as cold as the clay.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"Oh, beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly,<br> + Play the Dead March as you carry me along;<br> + Take me to the green valley, there lay the sod o'er me,<br> + For I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong.</p> + +<p>"I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy,"<br> +These words he did say as I boldly stepped by.<br> +"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story;<br> +I was shot in the breast and I know I must die.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"Let sixteen gamblers come handle my coffin,<br> + Let sixteen cowboys come sing me a song,<br> + Take me to the graveyard and lay the sod o'er me,<br> + For I'm a poor cowboy and I know I've done wrong.</p> + +<p>"My friends and relations, they live in the Nation,<br> +They know not where their boy has gone.<br> +He first came to Texas and hired to a ranchman,<br> +Oh, I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong.</p> + +<p>"Go <span class="pagenum"><a id="page075" name="page075"></a>(p. 075)</span> write a letter to my gray-haired mother,<br> +And carry the same to my sister so dear;<br> +But not a word of this shall you mention<br> +When a crowd gathers round you my story to hear.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"Then beat your drum lowly and play your fife slowly,<br> + Beat the Dead March as you carry me along;<br> + We all love our cowboys so young and so handsome,<br> + We all love our cowboys although they've done wrong.</p> + +<p>"There is another more dear than a sister,<br> +She'll bitterly weep when she hears I am gone.<br> +There is another who will win her affections,<br> +For I'm a young cowboy and they say I've done wrong.</p> + +<p>"Go gather around you a crowd of young cowboys,<br> +And tell them the story of this my sad fate;<br> +Tell one and the other before they go further<br> +To stop their wild roving before 'tis too late.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"Oh, muffle your drums, then play your fifes merrily;<br> + Play the Dead March as you go along.<br> + And fire your guns right over my coffin;<br> + There goes an unfortunate boy to his home.</p> + +<p>"It <span class="pagenum"><a id="page076" name="page076"></a>(p. 076)</span> was once in the saddle I used to go dashing,<br> +It was once in the saddle I used to go gay;<br> +First to the dram-house, then to the card-house,<br> +Got shot in the breast, I am dying to-day.</p> + +<p>"Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin;<br> +Get six pretty maidens to bear up my pall.<br> +Put bunches of roses all over my coffin,<br> +Put roses to deaden the clods as they fall.</p> + +<p class="add1em">"Then swing your rope slowly and rattle your spurs lowly,<br> + And give a wild whoop as you carry me along;<br> + And in the grave throw me and roll the sod o'er me,<br> + For I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong.</p> + +<p>"Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water,<br> +To cool my parched lips," the cowboy said;<br> +Before I turned, the spirit had left him<br> +And gone to its Giver,—the cowboy was dead.</p> + +<p class="add1em">We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly,<br> + And bitterly wept as we bore him along;<br> + For we all loved our comrade, so brave, young, and handsome,<br> + We all loved our comrade although he'd done wrong.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">LOVE IN DISGUISE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page077" name="page077"></a>(p. 077)</span></p> + +<p>As William and Mary stood by the seashore<br> +Their last farewell to take,<br> +Returning no more, little Mary she said,<br> +"Why surely my heart will break."<br> +"Oh, don't be dismayed, little Mary," he said,<br> +As he pressed the dear girl to his side,<br> +"In my absence don't mourn, for when I return<br> +I'll make little Mary my bride."</p> + +<p>Three years passed on without any news.<br> +One day as she stood by the door<br> +A beggar passed by with a patch on his eye,<br> +"I'm home, oh, do pity, my love;<br> +Have compassion on me, your friend I will be.<br> +Your fortune I'll tell besides.<br> +The lad you mourn will never return<br> +To make little Mary his bride."</p> + +<p>She startled and trembled and then she did say,<br> +"All the fortune I have I freely give<br> +If what I ask you will tell unto me,—<br> +Say, does young William yet live?"<br> +"He lives and is true and poverty poor,<br> +And shipwreck has suffered beside;<br> +He'll return no more, because he is poor,<br> +To make little Mary his bride."</p> + +<p>"No <span class="pagenum"><a id="page078" name="page078"></a>(p. 078)</span> tongue can tell the joy I do feel<br> +Although his misfortune I mourn,<br> +And he's welcome to me though poverty poor,<br> +His jacket all tattered and torn.<br> +I love him so dear, so true and sincere,<br> +I'll have no other beside;<br> +Those with riches enrobed and covered with gold<br> +Can't make little Mary their bride."</p> + +<p>The beggar then tore the patch from his eye,<br> +His crutches he laid by his side,<br> +Coat, jacket and bundle; cheeks red as a rose,<br> +'Twas William that stood by her side.<br> +"Then excuse me, dear maid," to her he said,<br> +"It was only your love I tried."<br> +So he hastened away at the close of the day<br> +To make little Mary his bride.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">MUSTANG GRAY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page079" name="page079"></a>(p. 079)</span></p> + +<p>There once was a noble ranger,<br> +They called him Mustang Gray;<br> +He left his home when but a youth,<br> +Went ranging far away.</p> + +<p class="add1em">But he'll go no more a-ranging,<br> + The savage to affright;<br> + He has heard his last war-whoop,<br> + And fought his last fight.</p> + +<p>He ne'er would sleep within a tent,<br> +No comforts would he know;<br> +But like a brave old Tex-i-an,<br> +A-ranging he would go.</p> + +<p>When Texas was invaded<br> +By a mighty tyrant foe,<br> +He mounted his noble war-horse<br> +And a-ranging he did go.</p> + +<p>Once he was taken prisoner,<br> +Bound in chains upon the way,<br> +He wore the yoke of bondage<br> +Through the streets of Monterey.</p> + +<p>A senorita loved him,<br> +And followed by his side;<br> +She <span class="pagenum"><a id="page080" name="page080"></a>(p. 080)</span> opened the gates and gave to him<br> +Her father's steed to ride.</p> + +<p>God bless the senorita,<br> +The belle of Monterey,<br> +She opened wide the prison door<br> +And let him ride away.</p> + +<p>And when this veteran's life was spent,<br> +It was his last command<br> +To bury him on Texas soil<br> +On the banks of the Rio Grande;</p> + +<p>And there the lonely traveler,<br> +When passing by his grave,<br> +Will shed a farewell tear<br> +O'er the bravest of the brave.</p> + +<p class="add1em">And he'll go no more a-ranging,<br> + The savage to affright;<br> + He has heard his last war-whoop,<br> + And fought his last fight.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">YOUNG COMPANIONS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page081" name="page081"></a>(p. 081)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you young companions<br> +And listen unto me,<br> +I'll tell you a story<br> +Of some bad company.</p> + +<p>I was born in Pennsylvania<br> +Among the beautiful hills<br> +And the memory of my childhood<br> +Is warm within me still.</p> + +<p>I did not like my fireside,<br> +I did not like my home;<br> +I had in view far rambling,<br> +So far away did roam.</p> + +<p>I had a feeble mother,<br> +She oft would plead with me;<br> +And the last word she gave me<br> +Was to pray to God in need.</p> + +<p>I had two loving sisters,<br> +As fair as fair could be,<br> +And oft beside me kneeling<br> +They oft would plead with me.</p> + +<p>I bid adieu to loved ones,<br> +To my home I bid farewell,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page082" name="page082"></a>(p. 082)</span> I landed in Chicago<br> +In the very depth of hell.</p> + +<p>It was there I took to drinking,<br> +I sinned both night and day,<br> +And there within my bosom<br> +A feeble voice would say:</p> + +<p>"Then fare you well, my loved one,<br> +May God protect my boy,<br> +And blessings ever with him<br> +Throughout his manhood joy."</p> + +<p>I courted a fair young maiden,<br> +Her name I will not tell,<br> +For I should ever disgrace her<br> +Since I am doomed for hell.</p> + +<p>It was on one beautiful evening,<br> +The stars were shining bright,<br> +And with a fatal dagger<br> +I bid her spirit flight.</p> + +<p>So justice overtook me,<br> +You all can plainly see,<br> +My soul is doomed forever<br> +Throughout eternity.</p> + +<p>It's now I'm on the scaffold,<br> +My moments are not long;<br> +You may forget the singer<br> +But don't forget the song.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">LACKEY BILL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page083" name="page083"></a>(p. 083)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you good old boys and listen to my rhymes,<br> +We are west of Eastern Texas and mostly men of crimes;<br> +Each with a hidden secret well smothered in his breast,<br> +Which brought us out to Mexico, way out here in the West.</p> + +<p>My parents raised me tenderly, they had no child but me,<br> +Till I began to ramble and with them could never agree.<br> +My mind being bent on rambling did grieve their poor hearts sore,<br> +To leave my aged parents them to see no more.</p> + +<p>I was borned and raised in Texas, though never come to fame,<br> +A cowboy by profession, C.W. King, by name.<br> +Oh, when the war was ended I did not like to work,<br> +My brothers were not happy, for I had learned to shirk.</p> + +<p>In fact I was not able, my health was very bad,<br> +I had no constitution, I was nothing but a lad.<br> +I had no education, I would not go to school,<br> +And living off my parents I thought it rather cool.</p> + +<p>So <span class="pagenum"><a id="page084" name="page084"></a>(p. 084)</span> I set a resolution to travel to the West,<br> +My parents they objected, but still I thought it best.<br> +It was out on the Seven Rivers all out on the Pecos stream,<br> +It was there I saw a country I thought just suited me.</p> + +<p>I thought I would be no stranger and lead a civil life,<br> +In order to be happy would choose myself a wife.<br> +On one Sabbath evening in the merry month of May<br> +To a little country singing I happened there to stray.</p> + +<p>It was there I met a damsel I never shall forget,<br> +The impulse of that moment remains within me yet.<br> +We soon became acquainted, I thought she would fill the bill,<br> +She seemed to be good-natured, which helps to climb the hill.</p> + +<p>She was a handsome figure though not so very tall;<br> +Her hair was red as blazes, I hate it worst of all.<br> +I saw her home one evening in the presence of her pap,<br> +I bid them both good evening with a note left in her lap.</p> + +<p>And when I got an answer I read it with a rush,<br> +I found she had consented, my feelings was a hush.<br> +But now I have changed my mind, boys, I am sure I wish her well.<br> +Here's <span class="pagenum"><a id="page085" name="page085"></a>(p. 085)</span> to that precious jewel, I'm sure I wish her well.</p> + +<p>This girl was Miss Mollie Walker who fell in love with me,<br> +She was a lovely Western girl, as lovely as could be,<br> +She was so tall, so handsome, so charming and so fair,<br> +There is not a girl in this whole world with her I could compare.</p> + +<p>She said my pockets would be lined with gold, hard work then I'd leave o'er<br> +If I'd consent to live with her and say I'd roam no more.<br> +My mind began to ramble and it grieved my poor heart sore,<br> +To leave my darling girl, her to see no more.</p> + +<p>I asked if it made any difference if I crossed o'er the plains;<br> +She said it made no difference if I returned again.<br> +So we kissed, shook hands, and parted, I left that girl behind.<br> +She said she'd prove true to me till death proved her unkind.</p> + +<p>I rode in the town of Vagus, all in the public square;<br> +The mail coach had arrived, the post boy met me there.<br> +He <span class="pagenum"><a id="page086" name="page086"></a>(p. 086)</span> handed me a letter that gave me to understand<br> +That the girl I loved in Texas had married another man.</p> + +<p>So I read a little farther and found those words were true.<br> +I turned myself all around, not knowing what to do.<br> +I'll sell my horse, saddle, and bridle, cow-driving I'll resign,<br> +I'll search this world from town to town for the girl I left behind.</p> + +<p>Here the gold I find in plenty, the girls to me are kind,<br> +But my pillow is haunted with the girl I left behind.<br> +It's trouble and disappointment is all that I can see,<br> +For the dearest girl in all the world has gone square back on me.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">WHOOPEE TI YI YO, GIT ALONG LITTLE DOGIES <span class="pagenum"><a id="page087" name="page087"></a>(p. 087)</span></p> + +<p>As I walked out one morning for pleasure,<br> +I spied a cow-puncher all riding alone;<br> +His hat was throwed back and his spurs was a jingling,<br> +As he approached me a-singin' this song,</p> + +<p class="add1em">Whoopee ti yi yo, git along little dogies,<br> + It's your misfortune, and none of my own.<br> + Whoopee ti yi yo, git along little dogies,<br> + For you know Wyoming will be your new home.</p> + +<p>Early in the spring we round up the dogies,<br> +Mark and brand and bob off their tails;<br> +Round up our horses, load up the chuck-wagon,<br> +Then throw the dogies upon the trail.</p> + +<p>It's whooping and yelling and driving the dogies;<br> +Oh how I wish you would go on;<br> +It's whooping and punching and go on little dogies,<br> +For you know Wyoming will be your new home.</p> + +<p>Some boys goes up the trail for pleasure,<br> +But that's where you get it most awfully wrong;<br> +For you haven't any idea the trouble they give us<br> +While we go driving them all along.</p> + +<p>When <span class="pagenum"><a id="page088" name="page088"></a>(p. 088)</span> the night comes on and we hold them on the bedground,<br> +These little dogies that roll on so slow;<br> +Roll up the herd and cut out the strays,<br> +And roll the little dogies that never rolled before.</p> + +<p>Your mother she was raised way down in Texas,<br> +Where the jimson weed and sand-burrs grow;<br> +Now we'll fill you up on prickly pear and cholla<br> +Till you are ready for the trail to Idaho.</p> + +<p>Oh, you'll be soup for Uncle Sam's Injuns;<br> +"It's beef, heap beef," I hear them cry.<br> +Git along, git along, git along little dogies<br> +You're going to be beef steers by and by.</p> + + +<h4>Whoopee <span class="pagenum"><a id="page089" name="page089"></a>(p. 089)</span> Ti Yi Yo, Git Along Little Dogies</h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/whoopee.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/whoopee.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/whoopee.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/whoopee_full.png"> +<img src="images/whoopee_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="whoopee"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE U-S-U RANGE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page092" name="page092"></a>(p. 092)</span></p> + +<p>O come cowboys and listen to my song,<br> +I'm in hopes I'll please you and not keep you long;<br> +I'll sing you of things you may think strange<br> +About West Texas and the U-S-U range.</p> + +<p>You may go to Stamford and there see a man<br> +Who wears a white shirt and is asking for hands;<br> +You may ask him for work and he'll answer you short,<br> +He will hurry you up, for he wants you to start.<br> +He will put you in a wagon and be off in the rain,<br> +You will go up on Tongue River on the U-S-U range.</p> + +<p>You will drive up to the ranch and there you will stop.<br> +It's a little sod house with dirt all on top.<br> +You will ask what it is and they will tell you out plain<br> +That it's the ranch house on the U-S-U range.</p> + +<p>You will go in the house and he will begin to explain;<br> +You will see some blankets rolled up on the floor;<br> +You may ask what it is and they will tell you out plain<br> +That it is the bedding on the U-S-U range.</p> + +<p>You <span class="pagenum"><a id="page093" name="page093"></a>(p. 093)</span> are up in the morning at the daybreak<br> +To eat cold beef and U-S-U steak,<br> +And out to your work no matter if it's rain,—<br> +And that is the life on the U-S-U range.</p> + +<p>You work hard all day and come in at night,<br> +And turn your horse loose, for they say it's all right,<br> +And set down to supper and begin to complain<br> +Of the chuck that you eat on the U-S-U range.</p> + +<p>The grub that you get is beans and cold rice<br> +And U-S-U steak cooked up very nice;<br> +And if you don't like that you needn't complain,<br> +For that's what you get on the U-S-U range.</p> + +<p>Now, kind friends, I must leave you, I no longer can remain,<br> +I hope I have pleased you and given you no pain.<br> +But when I am gone, don't think me strange,<br> +For I have been a cow-puncher on the U-S-U range.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">I'M A GOOD OLD REBEL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page094" name="page094"></a>(p. 094)</span></p> + +<p>Oh, I'm a good old rebel, that's what I am;<br> +And for this land of freedom, I don't care a damn,<br> +I'm glad I fought agin her, I only wish we'd won,<br> +And I don't axe any pardon for anything I've done.</p> + +<p>I served with old Bob Lee, three years about,<br> +Got wounded in four places and starved at Point Lookout;<br> +I caught the rheumatism a-campin' in the snow,<br> +But I killed a <i>chance</i> of Yankees and wish I'd killed some mo'.</p> + +<p class="add4em">For I'm a good old rebel, etc.</p> + +<p>I hate the constitooshin, this great republic too;<br> +I hate the mouty eagle, an' the uniform so blue;<br> +I hate their glorious banner, an' all their flags an' fuss,<br> +Those lyin', thievin' Yankees, I hate 'em wuss an' wuss.</p> + +<p class="add4em">For I'm a good old rebel, etc.</p> + +<p>I won't be re-constructed! I'm better now than them;<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page095" name="page095"></a>(p. 095)</span> for a carpet-bagger, I don't give a damn;<br> +So I'm off for the frontier, soon as I can go,<br> +I'll prepare me a weapon and start for Mexico.</p> + +<p class="add4em">For I'm a good old rebel, etc.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE COWBOY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page096" name="page096"></a>(p. 096)</span></p> + +<p>All day long on the prairies I ride,<br> +Not even a dog to trot by my side;<br> +My fire I kindle with chips gathered round,<br> +My coffee I boil without being ground.</p> + +<p>I wash in a pool and wipe on a sack;<br> +I carry my wardrobe all on my back;<br> +For want of an oven I cook bread in a pot,<br> +And sleep on the ground for want of a cot.</p> + +<p>My ceiling is the sky, my floor is the grass,<br> +My music is the lowing of the herds as they pass;<br> +My books are the brooks, my sermons the stones,<br> +My parson is a wolf on his pulpit of bones.</p> + +<p>And then if my cooking is not very complete<br> +You can't blame me for wanting to eat.<br> +But show me a man that sleeps more profound<br> +Than the big puncher-boy who stretches himself on the ground.</p> + +<p>My books teach me ever consistence to prize,<br> +My sermons, that small things I should not despise;<br> +My parson remarks from his pulpit of bones<br> +That fortune favors those who look out for their own.</p> + +<p>And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page097" name="page097"></a>(p. 097)</span> then between me and love lies a gulf very wide.<br> +Some lucky fellow may call her his bride.<br> +My friends gently hint I am coming to grief,<br> +But men must make money and women have beef.</p> + +<p>But Cupid is always a friend to the bold,<br> +And the best of his arrows are pointed with gold.<br> +Society bans me so savage and dodge<br> +That the Masons would ball me out of their lodge.</p> + +<p>If I had hair on my chin, I might pass for the goat<br> +That bore all the sins in the ages remote;<br> +But why it is I can never understand,<br> +For each of the patriarchs owned a big brand.</p> + +<p>Abraham emigrated in search of a range,<br> +And when water was scarce he wanted a change;<br> +Old Isaac owned cattle in charge of Esau,<br> +And Jacob punched cows for his father-in-law.</p> + +<p>He started in business way down at bed rock,<br> +And made quite a streak at handling stock;<br> +Then David went from night-herding to using a sling;<br> +And, winning the battle, he became a great king.<br> +Then the shepherds, while herding the sheep on a hill,<br> +Got a message from heaven of peace and goodwill.</p> + + +<h4>The Cowboy <span class="pagenum"><a id="page098" name="page098"></a>(p. 098)</span><br> + +Music by the "Kid"</h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/cowboy.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/cowboy.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/cowboy.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/cowboy_full.png"> +<img src="images/cowboy_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="The cowboy"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">BILL PETERS, THE STAGE DRIVER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page100" name="page100"></a>(p. 100)</span></p> + +<p>Bill Peters was a hustler<br> +From Independence town;<br> +He warn't a college scholar<br> +Nor man of great renown,<br> +But Bill had a way o' doing things<br> +And doin' 'em up brown.</p> + +<p>Bill driv the stage from Independence<br> +Up to the Smokey Hill;<br> +And everybody knowed him thar<br> +As Independence Bill,—<br> +Thar warn't no feller on the route<br> +That driv with half the skill.</p> + +<p>Bill driv four pair of horses,<br> +Same as you'd drive a team,<br> +And you'd think you was a-travelin'<br> +On a railroad driv by steam;<br> +And he'd git thar on time, you bet,<br> +Or Bill 'u'd bust a seam.</p> + +<p>He carried mail and passengers,<br> +And he started on the dot,<br> +And them teams o' his'n, so they say,<br> +Was never known to trot;<br> +But they went it in a gallop<br> +And kept their axles hot.</p> + +<p>When <span class="pagenum"><a id="page101" name="page101"></a>(p. 101)</span> Bill's stage 'u'd bust a tire,<br> +Or something 'u'd break down,<br> +He'd hustle round and patch her up<br> +And start off with a bound;<br> +And the wheels o' that old shack o' his<br> +Scarce ever touched the ground.</p> + +<p>And Bill didn't low no foolin',<br> +And when Inguns hove in sight<br> +And bullets rattled at the stage,<br> +He druv with all his might;<br> +He'd holler, "Fellers, give 'em hell,<br> +I ain't got time to fight."</p> + +<p>Then the way them wheels 'u'd rattle,<br> +And the way the dust 'u'd fly,<br> +You'd think a million cattle,<br> +Had stampeded and gone by;<br> +But the mail 'u'd get thar just the same,<br> +If the horses had to die.</p> + +<p>He driv that stage for many a year<br> +Along the Smokey Hill,<br> +And a pile o' wild Comanches<br> +Did Bill Peters have to kill,—<br> +And I reckon if he'd had good luck<br> +He'd been a drivin' still.</p> + +<p>But he chanced one day to run agin<br> +A bullet made o' lead,<br> +Which <span class="pagenum"><a id="page102" name="page102"></a>(p. 102)</span> was harder than he bargained for<br> +And now poor Bill is dead;<br> +And when they brung his body home<br> +A barrel of tears was shed.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">HARD TIMES <span class="pagenum"><a id="page103" name="page103"></a>(p. 103)</span></p> + +<p>Come listen a while and I'll sing you a song<br> +Concerning the times—it will not be long—<br> +When everybody is striving to buy,<br> +And cheating each other, I cannot tell why,—<br> +And it's hard, hard times.</p> + +<p>From father to mother, from sister to brother,<br> +From cousin to cousin, they're cheating each other.<br> +Since cheating has grown to be so much the fashion,<br> +I believe to my soul it will run the whole Nation,—<br> +And it's hard, hard times.</p> + +<p>Now there is the talker, by talking he eats,<br> +And so does the butcher by killing his meats.<br> +He'll toss the steelyards, and weigh it right down,<br> +And swear it's just right if it lacks forty pounds,—<br> +And it's hard, hard times.</p> + +<p>And there is the merchant, as honest, we're told.<br> +Whatever he sells you, my friend, you are sold;<br> +Believe what I tell you, and don't be surprised<br> +To find yourself cheated half out of your eyes,—<br> +And it's hard, hard times.</p> + +<p>And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page104" name="page104"></a>(p. 104)</span> there is the lawyer you plainly will see,<br> +He will plead your case for a very large fee,<br> +He'll law you and tell you the wrong side is right,<br> +And make you believe that a black horse is white,—<br> +And it's hard, hard times.</p> + +<p>And there is the doctor, I like to forgot,<br> +I believe to my soul he's the worst of the lot;<br> +He'll tell you he'll cure you for half you possess,<br> +And when you're buried he'll take all the rest,—<br> +And it's hard, hard times.</p> + +<p>And there's the old bachelor, all hated with scorn,<br> +He's like an old garment all tattered and torn,<br> +The girls and the widows all toss him a sigh,<br> +And think it quite right, and so do I,—<br> +And it's hard, hard times.</p> + +<p>And there's the young widow, coquettish and shy,<br> +With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye,<br> +But when she gets married she'll cut quite a dash,<br> +She'll give him the reins and she'll handle the cash,—<br> +And it's hard, hard times.</p> + +<p>And there's the young lady I like to have missed,<br> +And I believe to my soul she'd like to be kissed;<br> +She'll tell you she loves you with all pretence<br> +And ask you to call again some time hence,—<br> +And it's hard, hard times.</p> + +<p>And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page105" name="page105"></a>(p. 105)</span> there's the young man, the worst of the whole.<br> +Oh, he will tell you with all of his soul,<br> +He'll tell you he loves you and for you will die,<br> +And when he's away he will swear it's a lie,—<br> +And it's hard, hard times.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">COLE YOUNGER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page106" name="page106"></a>(p. 106)</span></p> + +<p>Am one of a band of highwaymen, Cole Younger is my name;<br> +My crimes and depredations have brought my friends to shame;<br> +The robbing of the Northfield Bank, the same I can't deny,<br> +For now I am a prisoner, in the Stillwater jail I lie.</p> + +<p>'Tis of a bold, high robbery, a story to you I'll tell,<br> +Of a California miner who unto us befell;<br> +We robbed him of his money and bid him go his way,<br> +For which I will be sorry until my dying day.</p> + +<p>And then we started homeward, when brother Bob did say:<br> +"Now, Cole, we will buy fast horses and on them ride away.<br> +We will ride to avenge our father's death and try to win the prize;<br> +We will fight those anti-guerrillas until the day we die."</p> + +<p>And then we rode towards Texas, that good old Lone Star State,<br> +But on Nebraska's prairies the James boys we did meet;<br> +With <span class="pagenum"><a id="page107" name="page107"></a>(p. 107)</span> knives, guns, and revolvers we all sat down to play,<br> +A-drinking of good whiskey to pass the time away.</p> + +<p>A Union Pacific railway train was the next we did surprise,<br> +And the crimes done by our bloody hands bring tears into my eyes.<br> +The engineerman and fireman killed, the conductor escaped alive,<br> +And now their bones lie mouldering beneath Nebraska's skies.</p> + +<p>Then we saddled horses, northwestward we did go,<br> +To the God-forsaken country called Min-ne-so-te-o;<br> +I had my eye on the Northfield bank when brother Bob did say,<br> +"Now, Cole, if you undertake the job, you will surely curse the day."</p> + +<p>But I stationed out my pickets and up to the bank did go,<br> +And there upon the counter I struck my fatal blow.<br> +"Just hand us over your money and make no further delay,<br> +We are the famous Younger brothers, we spare no time to pray."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">MISSISSIPPI GIRLS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page108" name="page108"></a>(p. 108)</span></p> + +<p>Come, all you Mississippi girls, and listen to my noise,<br> +If you happen to go West, don't you marry those Texian boys;<br> +For if you do, your fortune will be<br> +Cold jonny-cake and beefsteak, that's all that you will see,—<br> +Cold jonny-cake and beefsteak, that's all that you will see.</p> + +<p>When they go courting, here's what they wear:<br> +An old leather coat, and it's all ripped and tore;<br> +And an old brown hat with the brim tore down,<br> +And a pair of dirty socks, they've worn the winter round.</p> + +<p>When one comes in, the first thing you hear<br> +Is, "Madam, your father has killed a deer";<br> +And the next thing they say when they sit down<br> +Is, "Madam, the jonny-cake is too damned brown."</p> + +<p>They live in a hut with hewed log wall,<br> +But it ain't got any windows at all;<br> +With a clap-board roof and a puncheon floor,<br> +And that's the way all Texas o'er.</p> + +<p>They <span class="pagenum"><a id="page109" name="page109"></a>(p. 109)</span> will take you out on a live-oak hill<br> +And there they will leave you much against your will.<br> +They will leave you on the prairie, starve you on the plains,<br> +For that is the way with the Texians,—<br> +For that is the way with the Texians.</p> + +<p>When they go to preaching let me tell you how they dress;<br> +Just an old black shirt without any vest,<br> +Just an old straw hat more brim than crown<br> +And an old sock leg that they wear the winter round,—<br> +And an old sock leg that they wear the winter round.</p> + +<p>For your wedding supper, there'll be beef and cornbread;<br> +There it is to eat when the ceremony's said.<br> +And when you go to milk you'll milk into a gourd;<br> +And set it in the corner and cover it with a board;<br> +Some gets little and some gets none,<br> +For that is the way with the Texians,—<br> +For that is the way with the Texians.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE OLD MAN UNDER THE HILL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page110" name="page110"></a>(p. 110)</span></p> + +<p>There was an old man who lived under the hill,<br> +Chir-u-ra-wee, lived under the hill,<br> +And if he ain't dead he's living there still,<br> +Chir-u-ra-wee, living there still.</p> + +<p>One day the old man went out to plow,<br> +Chir-u-ra-wee, went out to plow;<br> +'Tis good-bye the old fellow, and how are you now,<br> +Sing chir-u-ra-wee, and how are you now.</p> + +<p>And then another came to his house,<br> +Chir-u-ra-wee, came to his house;<br> +"There's one of your family I've got to have now,<br> +Sing chir-u-ra-wee, got to have now.</p> + +<p>"It's neither you nor your oldest son,<br> +Chir-u-ra-wee, nor your oldest son."<br> +"Then take my old woman and take her for fun,<br> +Sing chir-u-ra-wee, take her for fun."</p> + +<p>He takened her all upon his back,<br> +Chir-u-ra-wee, upon his back,<br> +And like an old rascal went rickity rack,<br> +Sing chir-u-ra-wee, went rickity rack.</p> + +<p>But when he got half way up the road,<br> +Chir-u-ra-wee, up the road,<br> +Says <span class="pagenum"><a id="page111" name="page111"></a>(p. 111)</span> he, "You old lady, you're sure a load,"<br> +Sing chir-u-ra-wee, you're sure a load.</p> + +<p>He set her down on a stump to rest,<br> +Chir-u-ra-wee, stump to rest;<br> +She up with a stick and hit him her best.<br> +Sing chir-u-ra-wee, hit him her best.</p> + +<p>He taken her on to hell's old gate,<br> +Chir-u-ra-wee, hell's old gate,<br> +But when he got there he got there too late,<br> +Sing chir-u-ra-wee, got there too late.</p> + +<p>And so he had to keep his wife,<br> +Chir-u-ra-wee, had to keep his wife,<br> +And keep her he did for the rest of his life.<br> +Sing chir-u-ra-wee, for the rest of his life.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">JERRY, GO ILE THAT CAR <span class="pagenum"><a id="page112" name="page112"></a>(p. 112)</span></p> + +<p>Come all ye railroad section men an' listen to my song,<br> +It is of Larry O'Sullivan who now is dead and gone.<br> +For twinty years a section boss, he niver hired a tar—<br> +Oh, it's "j'int ahead and cinter back,<br> +An' Jerry, go ile that car!"</p> + +<p class="add1em">For twinty years a section boss, he niver hired a tar,<br> + But it's "j'int ahead an cinter back,<br> + An' Jerry, go ile that car-r-r!"</p> + +<p>For twinty years a section boss, he worked upon the track,<br> +And be it to his cred-i-it he niver had a wrack.<br> +For he kept every j'int right up to the p'int wid the tap of the tampin-bar-r-r;<br> +And while the byes was a-swimmin' up the ties,<br> +It's "Jerry, wud yez ile that car-r-r!"</p> + +<p>God rest ye, Larry O'Sullivan, to me ye were kind and good;<br> +Ye always made the section men go out and chop me wood;<br> +An' fetch me wather from the well an' chop me kindlin' fine;<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page113" name="page113"></a>(p. 113)</span> any man that wouldn't lind a hand, 'twas Larry give him his Time.</p> + +<p>And ivery Sunday morni-i-ing unto the gang he'd say:<br> +"Me byes, prepare—yez be aware the ould lady goes to church the day.<br> +Now, I want ivery man to pump the best he can, for the distance it is far-r-r;<br> +An' we have to get in ahead of number tin—<br> +So, Jerry, go an' ile that car-r-r!"</p> + +<p>'Twas in November in the winter time and the ground all covered wid snow,<br> +"Come put the hand-car-r-r on the track an' over the section go!"<br> +Wid his big soger coat buttoned up to his t'roat, all weathers he would dare—<br> +An' it's "Paddy Mack, will yez walk the track,<br> +An' Jerry, go an' ile that car-r-r!"</p> + +<p>"Give my respects to the roadmas-ther," poor Larry he did cry,<br> +"An lave me up that I may see the ould hand-car before I die.<br> +Come, j'int ahead an' cinter back,<br> +An' Jerry, go an' ile that car-r-r!"</p> + +<p class="add1em">Then lay the spike maul upon his chist, the gauge, and the ould claw-bar-r-r,<br> + And while the byes do be fillin' up his grave,<br> + "Oh, Jerry, go an' ile that car-r-r!"</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">JOHN GARNER'S TRAIL HERD <span class="pagenum"><a id="page114" name="page114"></a>(p. 114)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you old timers and listen to my song;<br> +I'll make it short as possible and I'll not keep you long;<br> +I'll relate to you about the time you all remember well<br> +When we, with old Joe Garner, drove a beef herd up the trail.</p> + +<p>When we left the ranch it was early in the spring,<br> +We had as good a corporal as ever rope did swing,<br> +Good hands and good horses, good outfit through and through,—<br> +We went well equipped, we were a jolly crew.</p> + +<p>We had no little herd—two thousand head or more—<br> +And some as wild a brush beeves as you ever saw before.<br> +We swung to them all the way and sometimes by the tail,—<br> +Oh, you know we had a circus as we all went up the trail.</p> + +<p>All things went on well till we reached the open ground,<br> +And then them cattle turned in and they gave us merry hell.<br> +They <span class="pagenum"><a id="page115" name="page115"></a>(p. 115)</span> stampeded every night that came and did it without fail,—<br> +Oh, you know we had a circus as we all went up the trail.</p> + +<p>We would round them up at morning and the boss would make a count,<br> +And say, "Look here, old punchers, we are out quite an amount;<br> +You must make all losses good and do it without fail<br> +Or you will never get another job of driving up the trail."</p> + +<p>When we reached Red River we gave the Inspector the dodge.<br> +He swore by God Almighty, in jail old John should lodge.<br> +We told him if he'd taken our boss and had him locked in jail,<br> +We would shore get his scalp as we all came down the trail.</p> + +<p>When we reached the Reservation, how squirmish we did feel,<br> +Although we had tried old Garner and knew him true as steel.<br> +And if we would follow him and do as he said do,<br> +That old bald-headed cow-thief would surely take us through.</p> + +<p>When <span class="pagenum"><a id="page116" name="page116"></a>(p. 116)</span> we reached Dodge City we drew our four months' pay.<br> +Times was better then, boys, that was a better day.<br> +The way we drank and gambled and threw the girls around,—<br> +"Say, a crowd of Texas cowboys has come to take our town."</p> + +<p>The cowboy sees many hardships although he takes them well;<br> +The fun we had upon that trip, no human tongue can tell.<br> +The cowboy's life is a dreary life, though his mind it is no load,<br> +And he always spends his money like he found it in the road.</p> + +<p>If ever you meet old Garner, you must meet him on the square,<br> +For he is the biggest cow-thief that ever tramped out there.<br> +But if you want to hear him roar and spin a lively tale,<br> +Just ask him about the time we all went up the trail.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE OLD SCOUT'S LAMENT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page117" name="page117"></a>(p. 117)</span></p> + +<p>Come all of you, my brother scouts,<br> +And join me in my song;<br> +Come, let us sing together<br> +Though the shadows fall so long.</p> + +<p>Of all the old frontiersmen<br> +That used to scour the plain,<br> +There are but very few of them<br> +That with us yet remain.</p> + +<p>Day after day they're dropping off,<br> +They're going one by one;<br> +Our clan is fast decreasing,<br> +Our race is almost run.</p> + +<p>There were many of our number<br> +That never wore the blue,<br> +But, faithfully, they did their part,<br> +As brave men, tried and true.</p> + +<p>They never joined the army,<br> +But had other work to do<br> +In piloting the coming folks,<br> +To help them safely through.</p> + +<p>But, brothers, we are falling,<br> +Our race is almost run;<br> +The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page118" name="page118"></a>(p. 118)</span> days of elk and buffalo<br> +And beaver traps are gone.</p> + +<p>Oh, the days of elk and buffalo!<br> +It fills my heart with pain<br> +To know these days are past and gone<br> +To never come again.</p> + +<p>We fought the red-skin rascals<br> +Over valley, hill, and plain;<br> +We fought him in the mountain top,<br> +And fought him down again.</p> + +<p>These fighting days are over;<br> +The Indian yell resounds<br> +No more along the border;<br> +Peace sends far sweeter sounds.</p> + +<p>But we found great joy, old comrades,<br> +To hear, and make it die;<br> +We won bright homes for gentle ones,<br> +And now, our West, good-bye.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE LONE BUFFALO HUNTER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page119" name="page119"></a>(p. 119)</span></p> + +<p>It's of those Texas cowboys, a story I'll tell;<br> +No name I will mention though in Texas they do dwell.<br> +Go find them where you will, they are all so very brave,<br> +And when in good society they seldom misbehave.</p> + +<p>When the fall work is all over in the line-camp they'll be found,<br> +For they have to ride those lonesome lines the long winter round;<br> +They prove loyal to a comrade, no matter what's to do;<br> +And when in love with a fair one they seldom prove untrue.</p> + +<p>But springtime comes at last and finds them glad and gay;<br> +They ride out to the round-up about the first of May;<br> +About the first of August they start up the trail,<br> +They have to stay with the cattle, no matter rain or hail.</p> + +<p>But when they get to the shipping point, then they receive their tens,<br> +Straightway to the bar-room and gently blow them in;<br> +It's <span class="pagenum"><a id="page120" name="page120"></a>(p. 120)</span> the height of their ambition, so I've been truly told,<br> +To ride good horses and saddles and spend the silver and gold.</p> + +<p>Those last two things I've mentioned, it is their heart's desire,<br> +And when they leave the shipping point, their eyes are like balls of fire.<br> +It's of those fighting cattle, they seem to have no fear,<br> +A-riding bucking broncos oft is their heart's desire.</p> + +<p>They will ride into the branding pen, a rope within their hands,<br> +They will catch them by each forefoot and bring them to the sands;<br> +It's altogether in practice with a little bit of sleight,<br> +A-roping Texas cattle, it is their heart's delight.</p> + +<p>But now comes the rising generation to take the cowboy's place,<br> +Likewise the corn-fed granger, with his bold and cheeky face;<br> +It's on those plains of Texas a lone buffalo hunter does stand<br> +To tell the fate of the cowboy that rode at his right hand.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE CROOKED TRAIL TO HOLBROOK <span class="pagenum"><a id="page121" name="page121"></a>(p. 121)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you jolly cowboys that follow the bronco steer,<br> +I'll sing to you a verse or two your spirits for to cheer;<br> +It's all about a trip, a trip that I did undergo<br> +On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.</p> + +<p>It's on the seventeenth of February, our herd it started out,<br> +It would have made your hearts shudder to hear them bawl and shout,<br> +As wild as any buffalo that ever rode the Platte,<br> +Those dogies we were driving, and every one was fat.</p> + +<p>We crossed the Mescal Mountains on the way to Gilson Flats,<br> +And when we got to Gilson Flats, Lord, how the wind did blow;<br> +It blew so hard, it blew so fierce, we knew not where to go,<br> +But our spirits never failed us as onward we did go,—<br> +On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.</p> + +<p>That night we had a stampede; Christ, how the cattle run!<br> +We <span class="pagenum"><a id="page122" name="page122"></a>(p. 122)</span> made it to our horses; I tell you, we had no fun;<br> +Over the prickly pear and catclaw brush we quickly made our way;<br> +We thought of our long journey and the girls we'd left one day.</p> + +<p>It's long by Sombserva we slowly punched along,<br> +While each and every puncher would sing a hearty song<br> +To cheer up his comrade as onward we did go,<br> +On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.</p> + +<p>We crossed the Mongollen Mountains where the tall pines do grow,<br> +Grass grows in abundance, and rippling streams do flow;<br> +Our packs were always turning, of course our gait was slow,<br> +On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.</p> + +<p>At last we got to Holbrook, a little gale did blow;<br> +It blew up sand and pebble stones and it didn't blow them slow.<br> +We had to drink the water from that muddy little stream<br> +And swallowed a peck of dirt when we tried to eat a bean.</p> + +<p>But the cattle now are shipped and homeward we are bound<br> +With <span class="pagenum"><a id="page123" name="page123"></a>(p. 123)</span> a lot of as tired horses as ever could be found;<br> +Across the reservation no danger did we fear,<br> +But thought of wives and sweethearts and the ones we love so dear.<br> +Now we are back in Globe City, our friendship there to share;<br> +Here's luck to every puncher that follows the bronco steer.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">ONLY A COWBOY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page124" name="page124"></a>(p. 124)</span></p> + +<p>Away out in old Texas, that great lone star state,<br> +Where the mocking bird whistles both early and late;<br> +It was in Western Texas on the old N A range<br> +The boy fell a victim on the old staked plains.</p> + +<p class="add1em">He was only a cowboy gone on before,<br> + He was only a cowboy, we will never see more;<br> + He was doing his duty on the old N A range<br> + But now he is sleeping on the old staked plains.</p> + +<p>His crew they were numbered twenty-seven or eight,<br> +The boys were like brothers, their friendship was great,<br> +When "O God, have mercy" was heard from behind,—<br> +The cattle were left to drift on the line.</p> + +<p>He leaves a dear wife and little ones, too,<br> +To earn them a living, as fathers oft do;<br> +For while he was working for the loved ones so dear<br> +He was took without warning or one word of cheer.</p> + +<p>And while he is sleeping where the sun always shines,<br> +The boys they go dashing along on the line;<br> +The look on their faces it speaks to us all<br> +Of one who departed to the home of the soul.</p> + +<p>He <span class="pagenum"><a id="page125" name="page125"></a>(p. 125)</span> was only a cowboy gone on before,<br> +He was only a cowboy, we will never see more;<br> +He was doing his duty on the old N A range<br> +But now he is sleeping on the old staked plains.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">FULLER AND WARREN <span class="pagenum"><a id="page126" name="page126"></a>(p. 126)</span></p> + +<p>Ye sons of Columbia, your attention I do crave,<br> +While a sorrowful story I do tell,<br> +Which happened of late, in the Indiana state,<br> +And a hero not many could excel;<br> +Like Samson he courted, made choice of the fair,<br> +And intended to make her his wife;<br> +But she, like Delilah, his heart did ensnare,<br> +Which cost him his honor and his life.</p> + +<p>A gold ring he gave her in token of his love,<br> +On the face was the image of the dove;<br> +They mutually agreed to get married with speed<br> +And were promised by the powers above.<br> +But the fickle-minded maiden vowed again to wed<br> +To young Warren who lived in that place;<br> +It was a fatal blow that caused his overthrow<br> +And added to her shame and disgrace.</p> + +<p>When Fuller came to hear he was deprived of his dear<br> +Whom he vowed by the powers to wed,<br> +With his heart full of woe unto Warren he did go,<br> +And smilingly unto him he said:<br> +"Young man, you have injured me to gratify your cause<br> +By reporting that I left a prudent wife;<br> +Acknowledge <span class="pagenum"><a id="page127" name="page127"></a>(p. 127)</span> now that you have wronged me, for although I break the laws,<br> +Young Warren, I'll deprive you of your life."</p> + +<p>Then Warren, he replied: "Your request must be denied,<br> +For your darling to my heart she is bound;<br> +And further I can say that this is our wedding day,<br> +In spite of all the heroes in town."<br> +Then Fuller in the passion of his love and anger bound,—<br> +Alas! it caused many to cry,—<br> +At one fatal shot killed Warren on the spot,<br> +And smilingly said, "I'm ready now to die."</p> + +<p>The time was drawing nigh when Fuller had to die;<br> +He bid the audience adieu.<br> +Like an angel he did stand, for he was a handsome man,<br> +On his breast he had a ribbon of blue.<br> +Ten thousand spectators did smite him on the breast,<br> +And the guards dropped a tear from the eye,<br> +Saying, "Cursed be she who caused this misery,<br> +Would to God in his stead she had to die."</p> + +<p>The gentle god of Love looked with anger from above<br> +And the rope flew asunder like the sand.<br> +Two doctors for the pay they murdered him, they say,<br> +They <span class="pagenum"><a id="page128" name="page128"></a>(p. 128)</span> hung him by main strength of hand.<br> +But the corpse it was buried and the doctors lost their prey,<br> +Oh, that harlot was bribed, I do believe;<br> +Bad women to a certainty are the downfall of men,<br> +As Adam was beguiled by Eve.</p> + + +<h4>Fuller and Warren <span class="pagenum"><a id="page129" name="page129"></a>(p. 129)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/fullerandwarren.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/fullerandwarren.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/fullerandwarren.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/fullerandwarren_full.png"> +<img src="images/fullerandwarren_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Fuller and Warren"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE TRAIL TO MEXICO <span class="pagenum"><a id="page132" name="page132"></a>(p. 132)</span></p> + +<p>I made up my mind to change my way<br> +And quit my crowd that was so gay,<br> +To leave my native home for a while<br> +And to travel west for many a mile.</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>'Twas all in the merry month of May<br> +When I started for Texas far away,<br> +I left my darling girl behind,—<br> +She said her heart was only mine.</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>Oh, it was when I embraced her in my arms<br> +I thought she had ten thousand charms;<br> +Her caresses were soft, her kisses were sweet,<br> +Saying, "We will get married next time we meet."</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>It was in the year of eighty-three<br> +That A.J. Stinson hired me.<br> +He says, "Young fellow, I want you to go<br> +And drive this herd to Mexico."</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page133" name="page133"></a>(p. 133)</span> first horse they gave me was an old black<br> +With two big set-fasts on his back;<br> +I padded him with gunny-sacks and my bedding all;<br> +He went up, then down, and I got a fall.</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>The next they gave me was an old gray,<br> +I'll remember him till my dying day.<br> +And if I had to swear to the fact,<br> +I believe he was worse off than the black.</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>Oh, it was early in the year<br> +When I went on trail to drive the steer.<br> +I stood my guard through sleet and snow<br> +While on the trail to Mexico.</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>Oh, it was a long and lonesome go<br> +As our herd rolled on to Mexico;<br> +With laughter light and the cowboy's song<br> +To Mexico we rolled along.</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>When I arrived in Mexico<br> +I wanted to see my love but could not go;<br> +So <span class="pagenum"><a id="page134" name="page134"></a>(p. 134)</span> I wrote a letter, a letter to my dear,<br> +But not a word from her could I hear.</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>When I arrived at the once loved home<br> +I called for the darling of my own;<br> +They said she had married a richer life,<br> +Therefore, wild cowboy, seek another wife.</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>Oh, the girl she is married I do adore,<br> +And I cannot stay at home any more;<br> +I'll cut my way to a foreign land<br> +Or I'll go back west to my cowboy band.</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>I'll go back to the Western land,<br> +I'll hunt up my old cowboy band,—<br> +Where the girls are few and the boys are true<br> +And a false-hearted love I never knew.</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>"O Buddie, O Buddie, please stay at home,<br> +Don't be forever on the roam.<br> +There is many a girl more true than I,<br> +So pray don't go where the bullets fly."</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + +<p>"It's <span class="pagenum"><a id="page135" name="page135"></a>(p. 135)</span> curse your gold and your silver too,<br> +God pity a girl that won't prove true;<br> +I'll travel West where the bullets fly,<br> +I'll stay on the trail till the day I die."</p> + +<p>Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE HORSE WRANGLER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page136" name="page136"></a>(p. 136)</span></p> + +<p>I thought one spring just for fun<br> +I'd see how cow-punching was done,<br> +And when the round-ups had begun<br> +I tackled the cattle-king.<br> +Says he, "My foreman is in town,<br> +He's at the plaza, and his name is Brown,<br> +If you'll see him, he'll take you down."<br> +Says I, "That's just the thing."</p> + +<p>We started for the ranch next day;<br> +Brown augured me most all the way.<br> +He said that cow-punching was nothing but play,<br> +That it was no work at all,—<br> +That all you had to do was ride,<br> +And only drifting with the tide;<br> +The son of a gun, oh, how he lied.<br> +Don't you think he had his gall?</p> + +<p>He put me in charge of a cavyard,<br> +And told me not to work too hard,<br> +That all I had to do was guard<br> +The horses from getting away;<br> +I had one hundred and sixty head,<br> +I sometimes wished that I was dead;<br> +When one got away, Brown's head turned red,<br> +And there was the devil to pay.</p> + +<p>Sometimes <span class="pagenum"><a id="page137" name="page137"></a>(p. 137)</span> one would make a break,<br> +Across the prairie he would take,<br> +As if running for a stake,—<br> +It seemed to them but play;<br> +Sometimes I could not head them at all,<br> +Sometimes my horse would catch a fall<br> +And I'd shoot on like a cannon ball<br> +Till the earth came in my way.</p> + +<p>They saddled me up an old gray hack<br> +With two set-fasts on his back,<br> +They padded him down with a gunny sack<br> +And used my bedding all.<br> +When I got on he quit the ground,<br> +Went up in the air and turned around,<br> +And I came down and busted the ground,—<br> +I got one hell of a fall.</p> + +<p>They took me up and carried me in<br> +And rubbed me down with an old stake pin.<br> +"That's the way they all begin;<br> +You're doing well," says Brown.<br> +"And in the morning, if you don't die,<br> +I'll give you another horse to try."<br> +"Oh say, can't I walk?" says I.<br> +Says he, "Yes, back to town."</p> + +<p>I've traveled up and I've traveled down,<br> +I've traveled this country round and round,<br> +I've lived in city and I've lived in town,<br> +But <span class="pagenum"><a id="page138" name="page138"></a>(p. 138)</span> I've got this much to say:<br> +Before you try cow-punching, kiss your wife,<br> +Take a heavy insurance on your life,<br> +Then cut your throat with a barlow knife,—<br> +For it's easier done that way.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">CALIFORNIA JOE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page139" name="page139"></a>(p. 139)</span></p> + +<p>Well, mates, I don't like stories;<br> +Or am I going to act<br> +A part around the campfire<br> +That ain't a truthful fact?<br> +So fill your pipes and listen,<br> +I'll tell you—let me see—<br> +I think it was in fifty,<br> +From that till sixty-three.</p> + +<p>You've all heard tell of Bridger;<br> +I used to run with Jim,<br> +And many a hard day's scouting<br> +I've done longside of him.<br> +Well, once near old Fort Reno,<br> +A trapper used to dwell;<br> +We called him old Pap Reynolds,<br> +The scouts all knew him well.</p> + +<p>One night in the spring of fifty<br> +We camped on Powder River,<br> +And killed a calf of buffalo<br> +And cooked a slice of liver.<br> +While eating, quite contented,<br> +I heard three shots or four;<br> +Put out the fire and listened,—<br> +We heard a dozen more.</p> + +<p>We <span class="pagenum"><a id="page140" name="page140"></a>(p. 140)</span> knew that old man Reynolds<br> +Had moved his traps up here;<br> +So picking up our rifles<br> +And fixing on our gear<br> +We moved as quick as lightning,<br> +To save was our desire.<br> +Too late, the painted heathens<br> +Had set the house on fire.</p> + +<p>We hitched our horses quickly<br> +And waded up the stream;<br> +While down close beside the waters<br> +I heard a muffled scream.<br> +And there among the bushes<br> +A little girl did lie.<br> +I picked her up and whispered,<br> +"I'll save you or I'll die."</p> + +<p>Lord, what a ride! Old Bridger<br> +Had covered my retreat;<br> +Sometimes that child would whisper<br> +In voice low and sweet,<br> +"Poor Papa, God will take him<br> +To Mama up above;<br> +There is no one left to love me,<br> +There is no one left to love."</p> + +<p>The little one was thirteen<br> +And I was twenty-two;<br> +I says, "I'll be your father<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page141" name="page141"></a>(p. 141)</span> love you just as true."<br> +She nestled to my bosom,<br> +Her hazel eyes so bright,<br> +Looked up and made me happy,—<br> +The close pursuit that night.</p> + +<p>One month had passed and Maggie,<br> +We called her Hazel Eye,<br> +In truth was going to leave me,<br> +Was going to say good-bye.<br> +Her uncle, Mad Jack Reynolds,<br> +Reported long since dead,<br> +Had come to claim my angel,<br> +His brother's child, he said.</p> + +<p>What could I say? We parted,<br> +Mad Jack was growing old;<br> +I handed him a bank note<br> +And all I had in gold.<br> +They rode away at sunrise,<br> +I went a mile or two,<br> +And parting says, "We will meet again;<br> +May God watch over you."</p> + +<p>By a laughing, dancing brook<br> +A little cabin stood,<br> +And weary with a long day's scout,<br> +I spied it in the wood.<br> +The pretty valley stretched beyond,<br> +The mountains towered above,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page142" name="page142"></a>(p. 142)</span> near its willow banks I heard<br> +The cooing of a dove.</p> + +<p>'Twas one grand pleasure;<br> +The brook was plainly seen,<br> +Like a long thread of silver<br> +In a cloth of lovely green;<br> +The laughter of the water,<br> +The cooing of the dove,<br> +Was like some painted picture,<br> +Some well-told tale of love.</p> + +<p>While drinking in the country<br> +And resting in the saddle,<br> +I heard a gentle rippling<br> +Like the dipping of a paddle,<br> +And turning to the water,<br> +A strange sight met my view,—<br> +A lady with her rifle<br> +In a little bark canoe.</p> + +<p>She stood up in the center,<br> +With her rifle to her eye;<br> +I thought just for a second<br> +My time had come to die.<br> +I doffed my hat and told her,<br> +If it was just the same,<br> +To drop her little shooter,<br> +For I was not her game.</p> + +<p>She <span class="pagenum"><a id="page143" name="page143"></a>(p. 143)</span> dropped the deadly weapon<br> +And leaped from the canoe.<br> +Says she, "I beg your pardon;<br> +I thought you was a Sioux.<br> +Your long hair and your buckskin<br> +Looked warrior-like and rough;<br> +My bead was spoiled by sunshine,<br> +Or I'd have killed you sure enough."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would've been better<br> +If you'd dropped me then," says I;<br> +"For surely such an angel<br> +Would bear me to the sky."<br> +She blushingly dropped her eyelids,<br> +Her cheeks were crimson red;<br> +One half-shy glance she gave me<br> +And then hung down her head.</p> + +<p>I took her little hand in mine;<br> +She wondered what it meant,<br> +And yet she drew it not away,<br> +But rather seemed content.<br> +We sat upon the mossy bank,<br> +Her eyes began to fill;<br> +The brook was rippling at our feet,<br> +The dove was cooing still.</p> + +<p>'Tis strong arms were thrown around her.<br> +"I'll save you or I'll die."<br> +I clasped her to my bosom,<br> +My <span class="pagenum"><a id="page144" name="page144"></a>(p. 144)</span> long lost Hazel Eye.<br> +The rapture of that moment<br> +Was almost heaven to me;<br> +I kissed her 'mid the tear-drops,<br> +Her merriment and glee.</p> + +<p>Her heart near mine was beating<br> +When sobbingly she said,<br> +"My dear, my brave preserver,<br> +They told me you were dead.<br> +But oh, those parting words, Joe,<br> +Have never left my mind,<br> +You said, 'We'll meet again, Mag,'<br> +Then rode off like the wind.</p> + +<p>"And oh, how I have prayed, Joe,<br> +For you who saved my life,<br> +That God would send an angel<br> +To guide you through all strife.<br> +The one who claimed me from you,<br> +My Uncle, good and true,<br> +Is sick in yonder cabin;<br> +Has talked so much of you.</p> + +<p>"'If Joe were living darling,'<br> +He said to me last night,<br> +'He would care for you, Maggie,<br> +When God puts out my light.'"<br> +We found the old man sleeping.<br> +"Hush, Maggie, let him rest."<br> +The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page145" name="page145"></a>(p. 145)</span> sun was slowly setting<br> +In the far-off, glowing West.</p> + +<p>And though we talked in whispers<br> +He opened wide his eyes:<br> +"A dream, a dream," he murmured;<br> +"Alas, a dream of lies."<br> +She drifted like a shadow<br> +To where the old man lay.<br> +"You had a dream, dear Uncle,<br> +Another dream to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I saw an angel<br> +As pure as mountain snow,<br> +And near her at my bedside<br> +Stood California Joe."<br> +"I'm sure I'm not an angel,<br> +Dear Uncle, that you know;<br> +These hands that hold your hand, too,<br> +My face is not like snow.</p> + +<p>"Now listen while I tell you,<br> +For I have news to cheer;<br> +Hazel Eye is happy,<br> +For Joe is truly here."<br> +It was but a few days after<br> +The old man said to me,<br> +"Joe, boy, she is an angel,<br> +And good as angels be.</p> + +<p>"For <span class="pagenum"><a id="page146" name="page146"></a>(p. 146)</span> three long months she hunted,<br> +And trapped and nursed me too;<br> +God bless you, boy, I believe it,<br> +She's safe along with you."<br> +The sun was slowly sinking,<br> +When Maggie, my wife, and I<br> +Went riding through the valley,<br> +The tear-drops in her eye.</p> + +<p>"One year ago to-day, Joe,<br> +I saw the mossy grave;<br> +We laid him neath the daisies,<br> +My Uncle, good and brave."<br> +And comrade, every springtime<br> +Is sure to find me there;<br> +There is something in the valley<br> +That is always fresh and fair.</p> + +<p>Our love is always kindled<br> +While sitting by the stream,<br> +Where two hearts were united<br> +In love's sweet happy dream.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE BOSTON BURGLAR <span class="pagenum"><a id="page147" name="page147"></a>(p. 147)</span></p> + +<p>I was born in Boston City, a city you all know well,<br> +Brought up by honest parents, the truth to you I'll tell,<br> +Brought up by honest parents and raised most tenderly,<br> +Till I became a roving man at the age of twenty-three.</p> + +<p>My character was taken then, and I was sent to jail.<br> +My friends they found it was in vain to get me out on bail.<br> +The jury found me guilty, the clerk he wrote it down,<br> +The judge he passed me sentence and I was sent to Charleston town.</p> + +<p>You ought to have seen my aged father a-pleading at the bar,<br> +Also my dear old mother a-tearing of her hair,<br> +Tearing of her old gray locks as the tears came rolling down,<br> +Saying, "Son, dear son, what have you done, that you are sent to Charleston town?"</p> + +<p>They put me aboard an eastbound train one cold December day,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page148" name="page148"></a>(p. 148)</span> every station that we passed, I'd hear the people say,<br> +"There goes a noted burglar, in strong chains he'll be bound,—<br> +For the doing of some crime or other he is sent to Charleston town."</p> + +<p>There is a girl in Boston, she is a girl that I love well,<br> +And if I ever gain my liberty, along with her I'll dwell;<br> +And when I regain my liberty, bad company I will shun,<br> +Night-walking, gambling, and also drinking rum.</p> + +<p>Now, you who have your liberty, pray keep it if you can,<br> +And don't go around the streets at night to break the laws of man;<br> +For if you do you'll surely rue and find yourself like me,<br> +A-serving out my twenty-one years in the penitentiary.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">SAM BASS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page149" name="page149"></a>(p. 149)</span></p> + +<p>Sam Bass was born in Indiana, it was his native home,<br> +And at the age of seventeen young Sam began to roam.<br> +Sam first came out to Texas a cowboy for to be,—<br> +A kinder-hearted fellow you seldom ever see.</p> + +<p>Sam used to deal in race stock, one called the Denton mare,<br> +He matched her in scrub races, and took her to the Fair.<br> +Sam used to coin the money and spent it just as free,<br> +He always drank good whiskey wherever he might be.</p> + +<p>Sam left the Collin's ranch in the merry month of May<br> +With a herd of Texas cattle the Black Hills for to see,<br> +Sold out in Custer City and then got on a spree,—<br> +A harder set of cowboys you seldom ever see.</p> + +<p>On their way back to Texas they robbed the U.P. train,<br> +And then split up in couples and started out again.<br> +Joe Collins and his partner were overtaken soon,<br> +With all their hard-earned money they had to meet their doom.</p> + +<p>Sam <span class="pagenum"><a id="page150" name="page150"></a>(p. 150)</span> made it back to Texas all right side up with care;<br> +Rode into the town of Denton with all his friends to share.<br> +Sam's life was short in Texas; three robberies did he do,<br> +He robbed all the passenger, mail, and express cars too.</p> + +<p>Sam had four companions—four bold and daring lads—<br> +They were Richardson, Jackson, Joe Collins, and Old Dad;<br> +Four more bold and daring cowboys the rangers never knew,<br> +They whipped the Texas rangers and ran the boys in blue.</p> + +<p>Sam had another companion, called Arkansas for short,<br> +Was shot by a Texas ranger by the name of Thomas Floyd;<br> +Oh, Tom is a big six-footer and thinks he's mighty fly,<br> +But I can tell you his racket,—he's a deadbeat on the sly.</p> + +<p>Jim Murphy was arrested, and then released on bail;<br> +He <span class="pagenum"><a id="page151" name="page151"></a>(p. 151)</span> jumped his bond at Tyler and then took the train for Terrell;<br> +But Mayor Jones had posted Jim and that was all a stall,<br> +'Twas only a plan to capture Sam before the coming fall.</p> + +<p>Sam met his fate at Round Rock, July the twenty-first,<br> +They pierced poor Sam with rifle balls and emptied out his purse.<br> +Poor Sam he is a corpse and six foot under clay,<br> +And Jackson's in the bushes trying to get away.</p> + +<p>Jim had borrowed Sam's good gold and didn't want to pay,<br> +The only shot he saw was to give poor Sam away.<br> +He sold out Sam and Barnes and left their friends to mourn,—<br> +Oh, what a scorching Jim will get when Gabriel blows his horn.</p> + +<p>And so he sold out Sam and Barnes and left their friends to mourn,<br> +Oh, what a scorching Jim will get when Gabriel blows his horn.<br> +Perhaps he's got to heaven, there's none of us can say,<br> +But if I'm right in my surmise he's gone the other way.</p> + + +<h4>Sam Bass <span class="pagenum"><a id="page152" name="page152"></a>(p. 152)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/sambass.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/sambass.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/sambass.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/sambass_full.png"> +<img src="images/sambass_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Sam Bass"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE ZEBRA DUN <span class="pagenum"><a id="page154" name="page154"></a>(p. 154)</span></p> + +<p>We were camped on the plains at the head of the Cimarron<br> +When along came a stranger and stopped to arger some.<br> +He looked so very foolish that we began to look around,<br> +We thought he was a greenhorn that had just 'scaped from town.</p> + +<p>We asked if he had been to breakfast; he hadn't had a smear,<br> +So we opened up the chuck-box and bade him have his share.<br> +He took a cup of coffee and some biscuits and some beans,<br> +And then began to talk and tell about foreign kings and queens,—</p> + +<p>About the Spanish war and fighting on the seas<br> +With guns as big as steers and ramrods big as trees,—<br> +And about old Paul Jones, a mean, fighting son of a gun,<br> +Who was the grittiest cuss that ever pulled a gun.</p> + +<p>Such an educated feller his thoughts just came in herds,<br> +He <span class="pagenum"><a id="page155" name="page155"></a>(p. 155)</span> astonished all them cowboys with them jaw-breaking words.<br> +He just kept on talking till he made the boys all sick,<br> +And they began to look around just how to play a trick.</p> + +<p>He said he had lost his job upon the Santa Fé<br> +And was going across the plains to strike the 7-D.<br> +He didn't say how come it, some trouble with the boss,<br> +But said he'd like to borrow a nice fat saddle hoss.</p> + +<p>This tickled all the boys to death, they laughed way down in their sleeves,—<br> +"We will lend you a horse just as fresh and fat as you please."<br> +Shorty grabbed a lariat and roped the Zebra Dun<br> +And turned him over to the stranger and waited for the fun.</p> + +<p>Old Dunny was a rocky outlaw that had grown so awful wild<br> +That he could paw the white out of the moon every jump for a mile.<br> +Old Dunny stood right still,—as if he didn't know,—<br> +Until he was saddled and ready for to go.</p> + +<p>When the stranger hit the saddle, old Dunny quit the earth<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page156" name="page156"></a>(p. 156)</span> traveled right straight up for all that he was worth.<br> +A-pitching and a-squealing, a-having wall-eyed fits,<br> +His hind feet perpendicular, his front ones in the bits.</p> + +<p>We could see the tops of the mountains under Dunny every jump,<br> +But the stranger he was growed there just like the camel's hump;<br> +The stranger sat upon him and curled his black mustache<br> +Just like a summer boarder waiting for his hash.</p> + +<p>He thumped him in the shoulders and spurred him when he whirled,<br> +To show them flunky punchers that he was the wolf of the world.<br> +When the stranger had dismounted once more upon the ground,<br> +We knew he was a thoroughbred and not a gent from town;</p> + +<p>The boss who was standing round watching of the show,<br> +Walked right up to the stranger and told him he needn't go,—<br> +"If you can use the lasso like you rode old Zebra Dun,<br> +You <span class="pagenum"><a id="page157" name="page157"></a>(p. 157)</span> are the man I've been looking for ever since the year one."</p> + +<p>Oh, he could twirl the lariat and he didn't do it slow,<br> +He could catch them fore feet nine out of ten for any kind of dough.<br> +And when the herd stampeded he was always on the spot<br> +And set them to nothing, like the boiling of a pot.</p> + +<p>There's one thing and a shore thing I've learned since I've been born,<br> +That every educated feller ain't a plumb greenhorn.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE BUFFALO SKINNERS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page158" name="page158"></a>(p. 158)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you jolly fellows and listen to my song,<br> +There are not many verses, it will not detain you long;<br> +It's concerning some young fellows who did agree to go<br> +And spend one summer pleasantly on the range of the buffalo.</p> + +<p>It happened in Jacksboro in the spring of seventy-three,<br> +A man by the name of Crego came stepping up to me,<br> +Saying, "How do you do, young fellow, and how would you like to go<br> +And spend one summer pleasantly on the range of the buffalo?"</p> + +<p>"It's me being out of employment," this to Crego I did say,<br> +"This going out on the buffalo range depends upon the pay.<br> +But if you will pay good wages and transportation too,<br> +I think, sir, I will go with you to the range of the buffalo."</p> + +<p>"Yes, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page159" name="page159"></a>(p. 159)</span> I will pay good wages, give transportation too,<br> +Provided you will go with me and stay the summer through;<br> +But if you should grow homesick, come back to Jacksboro,<br> +I won't pay transportation from the range of the buffalo."</p> + +<p>It's now our outfit was complete—seven able-bodied men,<br> +With navy six and needle gun—our troubles did begin;<br> +Our way it was a pleasant one, the route we had to go,<br> +Until we crossed Pease River on the range of the buffalo.</p> + +<p>It's now we've crossed Pease River, our troubles have begun.<br> +The first damned tail I went to rip, Christ! how I cut my thumb!<br> +While skinning the damned old stinkers our lives wasn't a show,<br> +For the Indians watched to pick us off while skinning the buffalo.</p> + +<p>He fed us on such sorry chuck I wished myself most dead,<br> +It was old jerked beef, croton coffee, and sour bread.<br> +Pease <span class="pagenum"><a id="page160" name="page160"></a>(p. 160)</span> River's as salty as hell fire, the water I could never go,—<br> +O God! I wished I had never come to the range of the buffalo.</p> + +<p>Our meat it was buffalo hump and iron wedge bread,<br> +And all we had to sleep on was a buffalo robe for a bed;<br> +The fleas and gray-backs worked on us, O boys, it was not slow,<br> +I'll tell you there's no worse hell on earth than the range of the buffalo.</p> + +<p>Our hearts were cased with buffalo hocks, our souls were cased with steel,<br> +And the hardships of that summer would nearly make us reel.<br> +While skinning the damned old stinkers our lives they had no show,<br> +For the Indians waited to pick us off on the hills of Mexico.</p> + +<p>The season being near over, old Crego he did say<br> +The crowd had been extravagant, was in debt to him that day,—<br> +We coaxed him and we begged him and still it was no go,—<br> +We left old Crego's bones to bleach on the range of the buffalo.</p> + +<p>Oh, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page161" name="page161"></a>(p. 161)</span> it's now we've crossed Pease River and homeward we are bound,<br> +No more in that hell-fired country shall ever we be found.<br> +Go home to our wives and sweethearts, tell others not to go,<br> +For God's forsaken the buffalo range and the damned old buffalo.</p> + + +<h4>Range of the Buffalo <span class="pagenum"><a id="page162" name="page162"></a>(p. 162)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/rangeofthebuffalo.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/rangeofthebuffalo.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/rangeofthebuffalo.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/rangeofthebuffalo_full.png"> +<img src="images/rangeofthebuffalo_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Range of the Buffalo"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">MACAFFIE'S CONFESSION <span class="pagenum"><a id="page164" name="page164"></a>(p. 164)</span></p> + +<p>Now come young men and list to me,<br> +A sad and mournful history;<br> +And may you ne'er forgetful be<br> +Of what I tell this day to thee.</p> + +<p>Oh, I was thoughtless, young, and gay<br> +And often broke the Sabbath day,<br> +In wickedness I took delight<br> +And sometimes done what wasn't right.</p> + +<p>I'd scarcely passed my fifteenth year,<br> +My mother and my father dear<br> +Were silent in their deep, dark grave,<br> +Their spirits gone to Him who gave.</p> + +<p>'Twas on a pleasant summer day<br> +When from my home I ran away<br> +And took unto myself a wife,<br> +Which step was fatal to my life.</p> + +<p>Oh, she was kind and good to me<br> +As ever woman ought to be,<br> +And might this day have been alive no doubt,<br> +Had I not met Miss Hatty Stout.</p> + +<p>Ah, well I mind the fatal day<br> +When Hatty stole my heart away;<br> +'Twas <span class="pagenum"><a id="page165" name="page165"></a>(p. 165)</span> love for her controlled my will<br> +And did cause me my wife to kill.</p> + +<p>'Twas on a brilliant summer's night<br> +When all was still; the stars shone bright.<br> +My wife lay still upon the bed<br> +And I approached to her and said:</p> + +<p>"Dear wife, here's medicine I've brought,<br> +For you this day, my love, I've bought.<br> +I know it will be good for you<br> +For those vile fits,—pray take it, do."</p> + +<p>She cast on me a loving look<br> +And in her mouth the poison took;<br> +Down by her infant on the bed<br> +In her last, long sleep she laid her head.</p> + +<p>Oh, who could tell a mother's thought<br> +When first to her the news was brought;<br> +The sheriff said her son was sought<br> +And into prison must be brought.</p> + +<p>Only a mother standing by<br> +To hear them tell the reason why<br> +Her son in prison, he must lie<br> +Till on the scaffold he must die.</p> + +<p>My father, sixty years of age,<br> +The best of counsel did engage,<br> +To <span class="pagenum"><a id="page166" name="page166"></a>(p. 166)</span> see if something could be done<br> +To save his disobedient son.</p> + +<p>So, farewell, mother, do not weep,<br> +Though soon with demons I will sleep,<br> +My soul now feels its mental hell<br> +And soon with demons I will dwell.</p> + +<hr class="small"> + +<p>The sheriff cut the slender cord,<br> +His soul went up to meet its Lord;<br> +The doctor said, "The wretch is dead,<br> +His spirit from his body's fled."</p> + +<p>His weeping mother cried aloud,<br> +"O God, do save this gazing crowd,<br> +That none may ever have to pay<br> +For gambling on the Sabbath day."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">LITTLE JOE, THE WRANGLER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page167" name="page167"></a>(p. 167)</span></p> + +<p>It's little Joe, the wrangler, he'll wrangle never more,<br> +His days with the <i>remuda</i> they are o'er;<br> +'Twas a year ago last April when he rode into our camp,—<br> +Just a little Texas stray and all alone,—<br> +On a little Texas pony he called "Chaw."<br> +With his brogan shoes and overalls, a tougher kid<br> +You never in your life before had saw.</p> + +<p>His saddle was a Texas "kak," built many years ago,<br> +With an O.K. spur on one foot lightly swung;<br> +His "hot roll" in a cotton sack so loosely tied behind,<br> +And his canteen from his saddle-horn was swung.<br> +He said that he had to leave his home, his pa had married twice;<br> +And his new ma whipped him every day or two;<br> +So he saddled up old Chaw one night and lit a shuck this way,<br> +And he's now trying to paddle his own canoe.</p> + +<p>He said if we would give him work, he'd do the best he could,<br> +Though he didn't know straight up about a cow;<br> +So <span class="pagenum"><a id="page168" name="page168"></a>(p. 168)</span> the boss he cut him out a mount and kindly put him on,<br> +For he sorta liked this little kid somehow.<br> +Learned him to wrangle horses and to try to know them all,<br> +And get them in at daylight if he could;<br> +To follow the chuck-wagon and always hitch the team,<br> +And to help the <i>cocinero</i> rustle wood.</p> + +<p>We had driven to the Pecos, the weather being fine;<br> +We had camped on the south side in a bend;<br> +When a norther commenced blowin', we had doubled up our guard,<br> +For it taken all of us to hold them in.<br> +Little Joe, the wrangler, was called out with the rest;<br> +Though the kid had scarcely reached the herd,<br> +When the cattle they stampeded, like a hailstorm long they fled,<br> +Then we were all a-ridin' for the lead.</p> + +<p>'Midst the streaks of lightin' a horse we could see in the lead,<br> +'Twas Little Joe, the wrangler, in the lead;<br> +He was riding Old Blue Rocket with a slicker o'er his head,<br> +A tryin' to check the cattle in their speed.<br> +At last we got them milling and kinda quieted down,<br> +And the extra guard back to the wagon went;<br> +But <span class="pagenum"><a id="page169" name="page169"></a>(p. 169)</span> there was one a-missin' and we knew it at a glance,<br> +'Twas our little Texas stray, poor Wrangling Joe.</p> + +<p>The next morning just at day break, we found where Rocket fell,<br> +Down in a washout twenty feet below;<br> +And beneath the horse, mashed to a pulp,—his spur had rung the knell,—<br> +Was our little Texas stray, poor Wrangling Joe.</p> + + +<h4>Little Joe, The Wrangler <span class="pagenum"><a id="page170" name="page170"></a>(p. 170)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/littlejoe.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/littlejoe.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/littlejoe.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/littlejoe_full.png"> +<img src="images/littlejoe_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Little Joe"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">HARRY BALE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page172" name="page172"></a>(p. 172)</span></p> + +<p>Come all kind friends and kindred dear and Christians young and old,<br> +A story I'll relate to you, 'twill make your blood run cold;<br> +'Tis all about an unfortunate boy who lived not far from here,<br> +In the township of Arcade in the County of Lapeer.<br> +It seems his occupation was a sawyer in a mill,<br> +He followed it successfully two years, one month, until,<br> +Until this fatal accident that caused many to weep and wail;<br> +'Twas where this young man lost his life,—his name was Harry Bale.</p> + +<p>On the 29th of April in the year of seventy-nine,<br> +He went to work as usual, no fear did he design;<br> +In lowering of the feed bar throwing the carriage into gear<br> +It brought him down upon the saw and cut him quite severe;<br> +It cut him through the collar-bone and half way down the back,<br> +It threw him down upon the saw, the carriage coming back.<br> +He <span class="pagenum"><a id="page173" name="page173"></a>(p. 173)</span> started for the shanty, his strength was failing fast;<br> +He said, "Oh, boys, I'm wounded: I fear it is my last."</p> + +<p>His brothers they were sent for, likewise his sisters too,<br> +The doctors came and dressed his wound, but kind words proved untrue.<br> +Poor Harry had no father to weep beside his bed,<br> +No kind and loving mother to sooth his aching head.<br> +He was just as gallant a young man as ever you wished to know,<br> +But he withered like a flower, it was his time to go.</p> + +<p>They placed him in his coffin and laid him in his grave;<br> +His brothers and sisters mourned the loss of a brother so true and brave.<br> +They took him to the graveyard and laid him away to rest,<br> +His body lies mouldering, his soul is among the blest.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">FOREMAN MONROE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page174" name="page174"></a>(p. 174)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you brave young shanty boys, and list while I relate<br> +Concerning a young shanty boy and his untimely fate;<br> +Concerning a young river man, so manly, true and brave;<br> +'Twas on a jam at Gerry's Rock he met his watery grave;</p> + +<p>'Twas on a Sunday morning as you will quickly hear,<br> +Our logs were piled up mountain high, we could not keep them clear.<br> +Our foreman said, "Come on, brave boys, with hearts devoid of fear,<br> +We'll break the jam on Gerry's Rock and for Agonstown we'll steer."</p> + +<p>Now, some of them were willing, while others they were not,<br> +All for to work on Sunday they did not think they ought;<br> +But six of our brave shanty boys had volunteered to go<br> +And break the jam on Gerry's Rock with their foreman, young Monroe.</p> + +<p>They <span class="pagenum"><a id="page175" name="page175"></a>(p. 175)</span> had not rolled off many logs 'till they heard his clear voice say,<br> +"I'd have you boys be on your guard, for the jam will soon give way."<br> +These words he'd scarcely spoken when the jam did break and go,<br> +Taking with it six of those brave boys and their foreman, young Monroe.</p> + +<p>Now when those other shanty boys this sad news came to hear,<br> +In search of their dead comrades to the river they did steer;<br> +Six of their mangled bodies a-floating down did go,<br> +While crushed and bleeding near the banks lay the foreman, young Monroe.</p> + +<p>They took him from his watery grave, brushed back his raven hair;<br> +There was a fair form among them whose cries did rend the air;<br> +There was a fair form among them, a girl from Saginaw town.<br> +Whose cries rose to the skies for her lover who'd gone down.</p> + +<p>Fair Clara was a noble girl, the river-man's true friend;<br> +She and her widowed mother lived at the river's bend;<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page176" name="page176"></a>(p. 176)</span> the wages of her own true love the boss to her did pay,<br> +But the shanty boys for her made up a generous sum next day.</p> + +<p>They buried him quite decently; 'twas on the first of May;<br> +Come all you brave young shanty boys and for your comrade pray.<br> +Engraved upon the hemlock tree that by the grave does grow<br> +Is the aged date and the sad fate of the foreman, young Monroe.</p> + +<p>Fair Clara did not long survive, her heart broke with her grief;<br> +And less than three months afterwards Death came to her relief;<br> +And when the time had come and she was called to go,<br> +Her last request was granted, to be laid by young Monroe.</p> + +<p>Come all you brave young shanty boys, I'd have you call and see<br> +Two green graves by the river side where grows a hemlock tree;<br> +The shanty boys cut off the wood where lay those lovers low,—<br> +'Tis the handsome Clara Vernon and her true love, Jack Monroe.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE DREARY BLACK HILLS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page177" name="page177"></a>(p. 177)</span></p> + +<p>Kind friends, you must pity my horrible tale,<br> +I am an object of pity, I am looking quite stale,<br> +I gave up my trade selling Right's Patent Pills<br> +To go hunting gold in the dreary Black Hills.</p> + +<p class="add1em">Don't go away, stay at home if you can,<br> + Stay away from that city, they call it Cheyenne,<br> + For big Walipe or Comanche Bills<br> + They will lift up your hair on the dreary Black Hills.</p> + +<p>The round-house in Cheyenne is filled every night<br> +With loafers and bummers of most every plight;<br> +On their backs is no clothes, in their pockets no bills,<br> +Each day they keep starting for the dreary Black Hills.</p> + +<p>I got to Cheyenne, no gold could I find,<br> +I thought of the lunch route I'd left far behind;<br> +Through rain, hail, and snow, frozen plumb to the gills,—<br> +They call me the orphan of the dreary Black Hills.</p> + +<p>Kind friend, to conclude, my advice I'll unfold,<br> +Don't go to the Black Hills a-hunting for gold;<br> +Railroad speculators their pockets you'll fill<br> +By taking a trip to those dreary Black Hills.</p> + +<p class="add1em">Don't <span class="pagenum"><a id="page178" name="page178"></a>(p. 178)</span> go away, stay at home if you can,<br> +Stay away from that city, they call it Cheyenne,<br> +For old Sitting Bull or Comanche Bills<br> +They will take off your scalp on the dreary Black Hills.</p> + + +<h4>The Dreary Black Hills <span class="pagenum"><a id="page179" name="page179"></a>(p. 179)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/drearyblackhills.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/drearyblackhills.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/drearyblackhills.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/drearyblackhills_full.png"> +<img src="images/drearyblackhills_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="The dreary Black Hills"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">A MORMON SONG <span class="pagenum"><a id="page182" name="page182"></a>(p. 182)</span></p> + +<p>I used to live on Cottonwood and owned a little farm,<br> +I was called upon a mission that gave me much alarm;<br> +The reason that they called me, I'm sure I do not know.<br> +But to hoe the cane and cotton, straightway I must go.</p> + +<p>I yoked up Jim and Baldy, all ready for the start;<br> +To leave my farm and garden, it almost broke my heart;<br> +But at last we got started, I cast a look behind,<br> +For the sand and rocks of Dixie were running through my mind.</p> + +<p>Now, when we got to Black Ridge, my wagon it broke down,<br> +And I, being no carpenter and forty miles from town,—<br> +I cut a clumsy cedar and rigged an awkward slide,<br> +But the wagon ran so heavy poor Betsy couldn't ride.</p> + +<p>While Betsy was out walking I told her to take care,<br> +When all of a sudden she struck a prickly pear,<br> +Then she began to hollow as loud as she could bawl,—<br> +If I were back in Cottonwood, I wouldn't go at all.</p> + +<p>Now, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page183" name="page183"></a>(p. 183)</span> when we got to Sand Ridge, we couldn't go at all,<br> +Old Jim and old Baldy began to puff and loll,<br> +I cussed and swore a little, for I couldn't make the route,<br> +For the team and I and Betsy were all of us played out.</p> + +<p>At length we got to Washington; I thought we'd stay a while<br> +To see if the flowers would make their virgin smile,<br> +But I was much mistaken, for when we went away<br> +The red hills of September were just the same in May.</p> + +<p>It is so very dreary, there's nothing here to cheer,<br> +But old pathetic sermons we very often hear;<br> +They preach them by the dozens and prove them by the book,<br> +But I'd sooner have a roasting-ear and stay at home and cook.</p> + +<p>I am so awful weary I'm sure I'm almost dead;<br> +'Tis six long weeks last Sunday since I have tasted bread;<br> +Of turnip-tops and lucerne greens I've had enough to eat,<br> +But I'd like to change my diet to buckwheat cakes and meat.</p> + +<p>I <span class="pagenum"><a id="page184" name="page184"></a>(p. 184)</span> had to sell my wagon for sorghum seed and bread;<br> +Old Jim and old Baldy have long since been dead.<br> +There's no one left but me and Bet to hoe the cotton tree,—<br> +God pity any Mormon that attempts to follow me!</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE BUFFALO HUNTERS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page185" name="page185"></a>(p. 185)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you pretty girls, to you these lines I'll write,<br> +We are going to the range in which we take delight;<br> +We are going on the range as we poor hunters do,<br> +And the tender-footed fellows can stay at home with you.</p> + +<p>It's all of the day long as we go tramping round<br> +In search of the buffalo that we may shoot him down;<br> +Our guns upon our shoulders, our belts of forty rounds,<br> +We send them up Salt River to some happy hunting grounds.</p> + +<p>Our game, it is the antelope, the buffalo, wolf, and deer,<br> +Who roam the wide prairies without a single fear;<br> +We rob him of his robe and think it is no harm,<br> +To buy us food and clothing to keep our bodies warm.</p> + +<p>The buffalo, he is the noblest of the band,<br> +He sometimes rejects in throwing up his hand.<br> +His shaggy main thrown forward, his head raised to the sky,<br> +He seems <span class="pagenum"><a id="page186" name="page186"></a>(p. 186)</span> to say, "We're coming, boys; so hunter, mind your eye."</p> + +<p>Our fires are made of mesquite roots, our beds are on the ground;<br> +Our houses made of buffalo hides, we make them tall and round;<br> +Our furniture is the camp kettle, the coffee pot, and pan,<br> +Our chuck it is both bread and meat, mingled well with sand.</p> + +<p>Our neighbors are the Cheyennes, the 'Rapahoes, and Sioux,<br> +Their mode of navigation is a buffalo-hide canoe.<br> +And when they come upon you they take you unaware,<br> +And such a peculiar way they have of raising hunter's hair.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE LITTLE OLD SOD SHANTY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page187" name="page187"></a>(p. 187)</span></p> + +<p>I am looking rather seedy now while holding down my claim,<br> +And my victuals are not always served the best;<br> +And the mice play shyly round me as I nestle down to rest<br> +In my little old sod shanty on my claim.</p> + +<p class="add1em">The hinges are of leather and the windows have no glass,<br> + While the board roof lets the howling blizzards in,<br> + And I hear the hungry cayote as he slinks up through the grass<br> + Round the little old sod shanty on my claim.</p> + +<p>Yet, I rather like the novelty of living in this way,<br> +Though my bill of fare is always rather tame,<br> +But I'm happy as a clam on the land of Uncle Sam<br> +In the little old sod shanty on my claim.</p> + +<p>But when I left my Eastern home, a bachelor so gay,<br> +To try and win my way to wealth and fame,<br> +I little thought I'd come down to burning twisted hay<br> +In the little old sod shanty on my claim.</p> + +<p>My <span class="pagenum"><a id="page188" name="page188"></a>(p. 188)</span> clothes are plastered o'er with dough, I'm looking like a fright,<br> +And everything is scattered round the room,<br> +But I wouldn't give the freedom that I have out in the West<br> +For the table of the Eastern man's old home.</p> + +<p>Still, I wish that some kind-hearted girl would pity on me take<br> +And relieve me from the mess that I am in;<br> +The angel, how I'd bless her if this her home she'd make<br> +In the little old sod shanty on my claim.</p> + +<p>And we would make our fortunes on the prairies of the West,<br> +Just as happy as two lovers we'd remain;<br> +We'd forget the trials and troubles we endured at the first<br> +In the little old sod shanty on my claim.</p> + +<p>And if fate should bless us with now and then an heir<br> +To cheer our hearts with honest pride of fame,<br> +Oh, then we'd be contented for the toil that we had spent<br> +In the little old sod shanty on our claim.</p> + +<p>When time enough had lapsed and all those little brats<br> +To <span class="pagenum"><a id="page189" name="page189"></a>(p. 189)</span> noble man and womanhood had grown,<br> +It wouldn't seem half so lonely as round us we should look<br> +And we'd see the old sod shanty on our claim.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE GOL-DARNED WHEEL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page190" name="page190"></a>(p. 190)</span></p> + +<p>I can take the wildest bronco in the tough old woolly West.<br> +I can ride him, I can break him, let him do his level best;<br> +I can handle any cattle ever wore a coat of hair,<br> +And I've had a lively tussle with a tarnel grizzly bear.<br> +I can rope and throw the longhorn of the wildest Texas brand,<br> +And in Indian disagreements I can play a leading hand,<br> +But at last I got my master and he surely made me squeal<br> +When the boys got me a-straddle of that gol-darned wheel.</p> + +<p>It was at the Eagle Ranch, on the Brazos,<br> +When I first found that darned contrivance that upset me in the dust.<br> +A tenderfoot had brought it, he was wheeling all the way<br> +From the sun-rise end of freedom out to San Francisco Bay.<br> +He tied up at the ranch for to get outside a meal,<br> +Never thinking we would monkey with his gol-darned wheel.</p> + +<p>Arizona <span class="pagenum"><a id="page191" name="page191"></a>(p. 191)</span> Jim begun it when he said to Jack McGill<br> +There was fellows forced to limit bragging on their riding skill,<br> +And he'd venture the admission the same fellow that he meant<br> +Was a very handy cutter far as riding bronchos went;<br> +But he would find that he was bucking 'gainst a different kind of deal<br> +If he threw his leather leggins 'gainst a gol-darned wheel.</p> + +<p>Such a slam against my talent made me hotter than a mink,<br> +And I swore that I would ride him for amusement or for chink.<br> +And it was nothing but a plaything for the kids and such about,<br> +And they'd have their ideas shattered if they'd lead the critter out.<br> +They held it while I mounted and gave the word to go;<br> +The shove they gave to start me warn't unreasonably slow.<br> +But I never spilled a cuss word and I never spilled a squeal—<br> +I was building reputation on that gol-darned wheel.</p> + +<p>Holy Moses and the Prophets, how we split the Texas air,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page192" name="page192"></a>(p. 192)</span> the wind it made whip-crackers of my same old canthy hair,<br> +And I sorta comprehended as down the hill we went<br> +There was bound to be a smash-up that I couldn't well prevent.<br> +Oh, how them punchers bawled, "Stay with her, Uncle Bill!<br> +Stick your spurs in her, you sucker! turn her muzzle up the hill!"<br> +But I never made an answer, I just let the cusses squeal,<br> +I was finding reputation on that gol-darned wheel.</p> + +<p>The grade was mighty sloping from the ranch down to the creek<br> +And I went a-galliflutin' like a crazy lightning streak,—<br> +Went whizzing and a-darting first this way and then that,<br> +The darned contrivance sort o' wobbling like the flying of a bat.<br> +I pulled upon the handles, but I couldn't check it up,<br> +And I yanked and sawed and hollowed but the darned thing wouldn't stop.<br> +Then a sort of a meachin' in my brain began to steal,<br> +That the devil held a mortgage on that gol-darned wheel.</p> + +<p>I've <span class="pagenum"><a id="page193" name="page193"></a>(p. 193)</span> a sort of dim and hazy remembrance of the stop,<br> +With the world a-goin' round and the stars all tangled up;<br> +Then there came an intermission that lasted till I found<br> +I was lying at the ranch with the boys all gathered round,<br> +And a doctor was a-sewing on the skin where it was ripped,<br> +And old Arizona whispered, "Well, old boy, I guess you're whipped,"<br> +And I told him I was busted from sombrero down to heel,<br> +And he grinned and said, "You ought to see that gol-darned wheel."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">BONNIE BLACK BESS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page194" name="page194"></a>(p. 194)</span></p> + +<p>When fortune's blind goddess<br> +Had fled my abode,<br> +And friends proved unfaithful,<br> +I took to the road;<br> +To plunder the wealthy<br> +And relieve my distress,<br> +I bought you to aid me,<br> +My Bonnie Black Bess.</p> + +<p>No vile whip nor spur<br> +Did your sides ever gall,<br> +For none did you need,<br> +You would bound at my call;<br> +And for each act of kindness<br> +You would me caress,<br> +Thou art never unfaithful,<br> +My Bonnie Black Bess.</p> + +<p>When dark, sable midnight<br> +Her mantle had thrown<br> +O'er the bright face of nature,<br> +How oft we have gone<br> +To the famed Houndslow heath,<br> +Though an unwelcome guest<br> +To the minions of fortune,<br> +My Bonnie Black Bess.</p> + +<p>How <span class="pagenum"><a id="page195" name="page195"></a>(p. 195)</span> silent you stood<br> +When the carriage I stopped,<br> +The gold and the jewels<br> +Its inmates would drop.<br> +No poor man I plundered<br> +Nor e'er did oppress<br> +The widows or orphans,<br> +My Bonnie Black Bess.</p> + +<p>When Argus-eyed justice<br> +Did me hot pursue,<br> +From Yorktown to London<br> +Like lightning we flew.<br> +No toll bars could stop you,<br> +The waters did breast,<br> +And in twelve hours we made it,<br> +My Bonnie Black Bess.</p> + +<p>But hate darkens o'er me,<br> +Despair is my lot,<br> +And the law does pursue me<br> +For the many I've shot;<br> +To save me, poor brute,<br> +Thou hast done thy best,<br> +Thou art worn out and weary,<br> +My Bonnie Black Bess.</p> + +<p>Hark! they never shall have<br> +A beast like thee;<br> +So noble and gentle<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page196" name="page196"></a>(p. 196)</span> brave, thou must die,<br> +My dumb friend,<br> +Though it does me distress,—<br> +There! There! I have shot thee,<br> +My Bonnie Black Bess.</p> + +<p>In after years<br> +When I am dead and gone,<br> +This story will be handed<br> +From father to son;<br> +My fate some will pity,<br> +And some will confess<br> +'Twas through kindness I killed thee,<br> +My Bonnie Black Bess.</p> + +<p>No one can e'er say<br> +That ingratitude dwelt<br> +In the bosom of Turpin,—<br> +'Twas a vice never felt.<br> +I will die like a man<br> +And soon be at rest;<br> +Now, farewell forever,<br> +My Bonnie Black Bess.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE LAST LONGHORN <span class="pagenum"><a id="page197" name="page197"></a>(p. 197)</span></p> + +<p>An ancient long-horned bovine<br> +Lay dying by the river;<br> +There was lack of vegetation<br> +And the cold winds made him shiver;<br> +A cowboy sat beside him<br> +With sadness in his face.<br> +To see his final passing,—<br> +This last of a noble race.</p> + +<p>The ancient eunuch struggled<br> +And raised his shaking head,<br> +Saying, "I care not to linger<br> +When all my friends are dead.<br> +These Jerseys and these Holsteins,<br> +They are no friends of mine;<br> +They belong to the nobility<br> +Who live across the brine.</p> + +<p>"Tell the Durhams and the Herefords<br> +When they come a-grazing round,<br> +And see me lying stark and stiff<br> +Upon the frozen ground,<br> +I don't want them to bellow<br> +When they see that I am dead,<br> +For I was born in Texas<br> +Near the river that is Red.</p> + +<p>"Tell <span class="pagenum"><a id="page198" name="page198"></a>(p. 198)</span> the cayotes, when they come at night<br> +A-hunting for their prey,<br> +They might as well go further,<br> +For they'll find it will not pay.<br> +If they attempt to eat me,<br> +They very soon will see<br> +That my bones and hide are petrified,—<br> +They'll find no beef on me.</p> + +<p>"I remember back in the seventies,<br> +Full many summers past,<br> +There was grass and water plenty,<br> +But it was too good to last.<br> +I little dreamed what would happen<br> +Some twenty summers hence,<br> +When the nester came with his wife, his kids,<br> +His dogs, and his barbed-wire fence."</p> + +<p>His voice sank to a murmur,<br> +His breath was short and quick;<br> +The cowboy tried to skin him<br> +When he saw he couldn't kick;<br> +He rubbed his knife upon his boot<br> +Until he made it shine,<br> +But he never skinned old longhorn,<br> +Caze he couldn't cut his rine.</p> + +<p>And the cowboy riz up sadly<br> +And mounted his cayuse,<br> +Saying, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page199" name="page199"></a>(p. 199)</span> "The time has come when longhorns<br> +And their cowboys are no use!"<br> +And while gazing sadly backward<br> +Upon the dead bovine,<br> +His bronc stepped in a dog-hole<br> +And fell and broke his spine.</p> + +<p>The cowboys and the longhorns<br> +Who partnered in eighty-four<br> +Have gone to their last round-up<br> +Over on the other shore;<br> +They answered well their purpose,<br> +But their glory must fade and go,<br> +Because men say there's better things<br> +In the modern cattle show.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">A PRISONER FOR LIFE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page200" name="page200"></a>(p. 200)</span></p> + +<p>Fare you well, green fields,<br> +Soft meadows, adieu!<br> +Rocks and mountains,<br> +I depart from you;<br> +Nevermore shall my eyes<br> +By your beauties be blest,<br> +Nevermore shall you soothe<br> +My sad bosom to rest.</p> + +<p>Farewell, little birdies,<br> +That fly in the sky,<br> +You fly all day long<br> +And sing your troubles by;<br> +I am doomed to this cell,<br> +I heave a deep sigh;<br> +My heart sinks within me,<br> +In anguish I die.</p> + +<p>Fare you well, little fishes,<br> +That glides through the sea,<br> +Your life's all sunshine,<br> +All light, and all glee;<br> +Nevermore shall I watch<br> +Your skill in the wave,<br> +I'll depart from all friends<br> +This side of the grave.</p> + +<p>What <span class="pagenum"><a id="page201" name="page201"></a>(p. 201)</span> would I give<br> +Such freedom to share,<br> +To roam at my ease<br> +And breathe the fresh air;<br> +I would roam through the cities,<br> +Through village and dell,<br> +But I never would return<br> +To my cold prison cell.</p> + +<p>What's life without liberty?<br> +I ofttimes have said,<br> +Of a poor troubled mind<br> +That's always in dread;<br> +No sun, moon, and stars<br> +Can on me now shine,<br> +No change in my danger<br> +From daylight till dawn.</p> + +<p>Fare you well, kind friends,<br> +I am willing to own,<br> +Such a wild outcast<br> +Never was known;<br> +I'm the downfall of my family,<br> +My children, my wife;<br> +God pity and pardon<br> +The poor prisoner for life.</p> + + +<h4>A Prisoner For Life <span class="pagenum"><a id="page202" name="page202"></a>(p. 202)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/prisonerforlife.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/prisonerforlife.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/prisonerforlife.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/prisonerforlife_full.png"> +<img src="images/prisonerforlife_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Prisoner For Life"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE WARS OF GERMANY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page204" name="page204"></a>(p. 204)</span></p> + +<p>There was a wealthy merchant,<br> +In London he did dwell,<br> +He had an only daughter,<br> +The truth to you I'll tell.<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>She was courted by a lord<br> +Of very high degree,<br> +She was courted by a sailor Jack<br> +Just from the wars of Germany.<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>Her parents came to know this,<br> +That such a thing could be,<br> +A sailor Jack, a sailor lad,<br> +Just from the wars of Germany.<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>So Polly she's at home<br> +With money at command,<br> +She taken a notion<br> +To view some foreign land.<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>She <span class="pagenum"><a id="page205" name="page205"></a>(p. 205)</span> went to the tailor's shop<br> +And dressed herself in man's array,<br> +And was off to an officer<br> +To carry her straight away.<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>"Good morning," says the officer,<br> +And "Morning," says she,<br> +"Here's fifty guineas if you'll carry me<br> +To the wars of Germany."<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>"Your waist is too slender,<br> +Your fingers are too small,<br> +I am afraid from your countenance<br> +You can't face a cannon ball."<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>"My waist is not too slender,<br> +My fingers are not too small,<br> +And never would I quiver<br> +To face a cannon ball."<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>"We don't often 'list an officer<br> +Unless the name we know;"<br> +She <span class="pagenum"><a id="page206" name="page206"></a>(p. 206)</span> answered him in a low, sweet voice,<br> +"You may call me Jack Munro."<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>We gathered up our men<br> +And quickly we did sail,<br> +We landed in France<br> +With a sweet and pleasant gale.<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>We were walking on the land,<br> +Up and down the line,—<br> +Among the dead and wounded<br> +Her own true love she did find.<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>She picked him up all in her arms,<br> +To Tousen town she went;<br> +She soon found a doctor<br> +To dress and heal his wounds,<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing I am left alone.</span></p> + +<p>So Jacky, he is married,<br> +And his bride by his side,<br> +In spite of her old parents<br> +And all the world beside.<br> + <span class="add2em">Sing no longer left alone,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">Sing no longer left alone.</span></p> + + +<p class="tit-song">FREIGHTING FROM WILCOX TO GLOBE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page207" name="page207"></a>(p. 207)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you jolly freighters<br> +That has freighted on the road,<br> +That has hauled a load of freight<br> +From Wilcox to Globe;<br> +We freighted on this road<br> +For sixteen years or more<br> +A-hauling freight for Livermore,—<br> +No wonder that I'm poor.</p> + +<p class="add2em">And it's home, dearest home;<br> + And it's home you ought to be,<br> + Over on the Gila<br> + In the white man's country,<br> + Where the poplar and the ash<br> + And mesquite will ever be<br> + Growing green down on the Gila;<br> + There's a home for you and me.</p> + +<p>'Twas in the spring of seventy-three<br> +I started with my team,<br> +Led by false illusion<br> +And those foolish, golden dreams;<br> +The first night out from Wilcox<br> +My best wheel horse was stole,<br> +And it makes me curse a little<br> +To come out in the hole.</p> + +<p>This <span class="pagenum"><a id="page208" name="page208"></a>(p. 208)</span> then only left me three,—<br> +Kit, Mollie and old Mike;<br> +Mike being the best one of the three<br> +I put him out on spike;<br> +I then took the mountain road<br> +So the people would not smile,<br> +And it took fourteen days<br> +To travel thirteen mile.</p> + +<p>But I got there all the same<br> +With my little three-up spike;<br> +It taken all my money, then,<br> +To buy a mate for Mike.<br> +You all know how it is<br> +When once you get behind,<br> +You never get even again<br> +Till you damn steal them blind.</p> + +<p>I was an honest man<br> +When I first took to the road,<br> +I would not swear an oath,<br> +Nor would I tap a load;<br> +But now you ought to see my mules<br> +When I begin to cuss,<br> +They flop their ears and wiggle their tails<br> +And pull the load or bust.</p> + +<p>Now I can tap a whiskey barrel<br> +With nothing but a stick,<br> +No one can detect me<br> +I've got it down so slick;<br> +Just <span class="pagenum"><a id="page209" name="page209"></a>(p. 209)</span> fill it up with water,—<br> +Sure, there's no harm in that.</p> + +<p>Now my clothes are not the finest,<br> +Nor are they genteel;<br> +But they will have to do me<br> +Till I can make another steal.<br> +My boots are number elevens,<br> +For I swiped them from a chow,<br> +And my coat cost dos reals<br> +From a little Apache squaw.</p> + +<p>Now I have freighted in the sand,<br> +I have freighted in the rain,<br> +I have bogged my wagons down<br> +And dug them out again;<br> +I have worked both late and early<br> +Till I was almost dead,<br> +And I have spent some nights sleeping<br> +In an Arizona bed.</p> + +<p>Now barbed wire and bacon<br> +Is all that they will pay,<br> +But you have to show your copper checks<br> +To get your grain and hay;<br> +If you ask them for five dollars,<br> +Old Meyers will scratch his pate,<br> +And the clerks in their white, stiff collars<br> +Say, "Get down and pull your freight."</p> + +<p>But <span class="pagenum"><a id="page210" name="page210"></a>(p. 210)</span> I want to die and go to hell,<br> +Get there before Livermore and Meyers,<br> +And get a job of hauling coke<br> +To keep up the devil's fires;<br> +If I get the job of singeing them,<br> +I'll see they don't get free;<br> +I'll treat them like a yaller dog,<br> +As they have treated me.</p> + +<p class="add2em">And it's home, dearest home;<br> + And it's home you ought to be,<br> + Over on the Gila,<br> + In the white man's country,<br> + Where the poplar and the ash<br> + And mesquite will ever be<br> + Growing green down on the Gila;<br> + There's a home for you and me.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE ARIZONA BOYS AND GIRLS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page211" name="page211"></a>(p. 211)</span></p> + +<p>Come all of you people, I pray you draw near,<br> +A comical ditty you all shall hear.<br> +The boys in this country they try to advance<br> +By courting the ladies and learning to dance,—<br> +And they're down, down, and they're down.</p> + +<p>The boys in this country they try to be plain,<br> +Those words that you hear you may hear them again,<br> +With twice as much added on if you can.<br> +There's many a boy stuck up for a man,—<br> +And they're down, down, and they're down.</p> + +<p>They will go to their parties, their whiskey they'll take,<br> +And out in the dark their bottles they'll break;<br> +You'll hear one say, "There's a bottle around here;<br> +So come around, boys, and we'll all take a share,"—<br> +And they're down, down, and they're down.</p> + +<p>There is some wears shoes and some wears boots,<br> +But there are very few that rides who don't shoot;<br> +More than this, I'll tell you what they'll do,<br> +They'll get them a watch and a ranger hat, too,—<br> +And they're down, down, and they're down.</p> + +<p>They'll go in the hall with spurs on their heel,<br> +They'll get them a partner to dance the next reel,<br> +Saying, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page212" name="page212"></a>(p. 212)</span> "How do I look in my new brown suit,<br> +With my pants stuffed down in the top of my boot?"—<br> +And they're down, down, and they're down.</p> + +<p>Now I think it's quite time to leave off these lads<br> +For here are some girls that's fully as bad;<br> +They'll trim up their dresses and curl up their hair,<br> +And like an old owl before the glass they'll stare,—<br> +And they're down, down, and they're down.</p> + +<p>The girls in the country they grin like a cat,<br> +And with giggling and laughing they don't know what they're at,<br> +They think they're pretty and I tell you they're wise,<br> +But they couldn't get married to save their two eyes,—<br> +And they're down, down, and they're down.</p> + +<p>You can tell a good girl wherever she's found;<br> +No trimming, no lace, no nonsense around;<br> +With a long-eared bonnet tied under her chin,—</p> + +<hr class="small"> + +<p>And they're down, down, and they're down.</p> + +<p>They'll go to church with their snuff-box in hand,<br> +They'll give it a tap to make it look grand;<br> +Perhaps there is another one or two<br> +And they'll pass it around and it's "Madam, won't you,"—<br> +And they're down, down, and they're down.</p> + +<p>Now, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page213" name="page213"></a>(p. 213)</span> I think it's quite time for this ditty to end;<br> +If there's anyone here that it will offend,<br> +If there's anyone here that thinks it amiss<br> +Just come around now and give the singer a kiss,—<br> +And they're down, down, and they're down.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE DYING RANGER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page214" name="page214"></a>(p. 214)</span></p> + +<p>The sun was sinking in the west<br> +And fell with lingering ray<br> +Through the branches of a forest<br> +Where a wounded ranger lay;<br> +Beneath the shade of a palmetto<br> +And the sunset silvery sky,<br> +Far away from his home in Texas<br> +They laid him down to die.</p> + +<p>A group had gathered round him,<br> +His comrades in the fight,<br> +A tear rolled down each manly cheek<br> +As he bid a last good-night.<br> +One tried and true companion<br> +Was kneeling by his side,<br> +To stop his life-blood flowing,<br> +But alas, in vain he tried.</p> + +<p>When to stop the life-blood flowing<br> +He found 'twas all in vain,<br> +The tears rolled down each man's cheek<br> +Like light showers of rain.<br> +Up spoke the noble ranger,<br> +"Boys, weep no more for me,<br> +I am crossing the deep waters<br> +To a country that is free.</p> + +<p>"Draw <span class="pagenum"><a id="page215" name="page215"></a>(p. 215)</span> closer to me, comrades,<br> +And listen to what I say,<br> +I am going to tell a story<br> +While my spirit hastens away.<br> +Way back in Northwest Texas,<br> +That good old Lone Star state,<br> +There is one that for my coming<br> +With a weary heart will wait.</p> + +<p>"A fair young girl, my sister,<br> +My only joy, my pride,<br> +She was my friend from boyhood,<br> +I had no one left beside.<br> +I have loved her as a brother,<br> +And with a father's care<br> +I have strove from grief and sorrov<br> +Her gentle heart to spare.</p> + +<p>"My mother, she lies sleeping<br> +Beneath the church-yard sod,<br> +And many a day has passed away<br> +Since her spirit fled to God.<br> +My father, he lies sleeping<br> +Beneath the deep blue sea,<br> +I have no other kindred,<br> +There are none but Nell and me.</p> + +<p>"But our country was invaded<br> +And they called for volunteers;<br> +She threw her arms around me,<br> +Then burst into tears,<br> +Saying, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page216" name="page216"></a>(p. 216)</span> 'Go, my darling brother,<br> +Drive those traitors from our shore,<br> +My heart may need your presence,<br> +But our country needs you more.'</p> + +<p>"It is true I love my country,<br> +For her I gave my all.<br> +If it hadn't been for my sister,<br> +I would be content to fall.<br> +I am dying, comrades, dying,<br> +She will never see me more,<br> +But in vain she'll wait my coming<br> +By our little cabin door.</p> + +<p>"Comrades, gather closer<br> +And listen to my dying prayer.<br> +Who will be to her as a brother,<br> +And shield her with a brother's care?"<br> +Up spake the noble rangers,<br> +They answered one and all,<br> +"We will be to her as brothers<br> +Till the last one does fall."</p> + +<p>One glad smile of pleasure<br> +O'er the ranger's face was spread;<br> +One dark, convulsive shadow,<br> +And the ranger boy was dead.<br> +Far from his darling sister<br> +We laid him down to rest<br> +With his saddle for a pillow<br> +And his gun across his breast.</p> + + +<h4>The Dying Ranger <span class="pagenum"><a id="page217" name="page217"></a>(p. 217)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/dyingranger.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/dyingranger.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/dyingranger.pdf">View/Download PDFe</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/dyingranger_full.png"> +<img src="images/dyingranger_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="The Dying Ranger"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE FAIR FANNIE MOORE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page219" name="page219"></a>(p. 219)</span></p> + +<p>Yonder stands a cottage,<br> +All deserted and alone,<br> +Its paths are neglected,<br> +With grass overgrown;<br> +Go in and you will see<br> +Some dark stains on the floor,—<br> +Alas! it is the blood<br> +Of fair Fannie Moore.</p> + +<p>To Fannie, so blooming,<br> +Two lovers they came;<br> +One offered young Fannie<br> +His wealth and his name;<br> +But neither his money<br> +Nor pride could secure<br> +A place in the heart<br> +Of fair Fannie Moore.</p> + +<p>The first was young Randell,<br> +So bold and so proud,<br> +Who to the fair Fannie<br> +His haughty head bowed;<br> +But his wealth and his house<br> +Both failed to allure<br> +The heart from the bosom<br> +Of fair Fannie Moore.</p> + +<p>The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page220" name="page220"></a>(p. 220)</span> next was young Henry,<br> +Of lowest degree.<br> +He won her fond love<br> +And enraptured was he;<br> +And then at the altar<br> +He quick did secure<br> +The hand with the heart<br> +Of the fair Fannie Moore.</p> + +<p>As she was alone<br> +In her cottage one day,<br> +When business had called<br> +Her fond husband away,<br> +Young Randell, the haughty,<br> +Came in at the door<br> +And clasped in his arms<br> +The fair Fannie Moore.</p> + +<p>"O Fannie, O Fannie,<br> +Reflect on your fate<br> +And accept of my offer<br> +Before it's too late;<br> +For one thing to-night<br> +I am bound to secure,—<br> +'Tis the love or the life<br> +Of the fair Fannie Moore."</p> + +<p>"Spare me, Oh, spare me!"<br> +The young Fannie cries,<br> +While the tears swiftly flow<br> +From <span class="pagenum"><a id="page221" name="page221"></a>(p. 221)</span> her beautiful eyes;<br> +"Oh, no!" cries young Randell,<br> +"Go home to your rest,"<br> +And he buried his knife<br> +In her snowy white breast.</p> + +<p>So Fannie, so blooming,<br> +In her bright beauty died;<br> +Young Randell, the haughty,<br> +Was taken and tried;<br> +At length he was hung<br> +On a tree at the door,<br> +For shedding the blood<br> +Of the fair Fannie Moore.</p> + +<p>Young Henry, the shepherd,<br> +Distracted and wild,<br> +Did wander away<br> +From his own native isle.<br> +Till at length, claimed by death,<br> +He was brought to this shore<br> +And laid by the side<br> +Of the fair Fannie Moore.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">HELL IN TEXAS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page222" name="page222"></a>(p. 222)</span></p> + +<p>The devil, we're told, in hell was chained,<br> +And a thousand years he there remained;<br> +He never complained nor did he groan,<br> +But determined to start a hell of his own,<br> +Where he could torment the souls of men<br> +Without being chained in a prison pen.<br> +So he asked the Lord if he had on hand<br> +Anything left when he made the land.</p> + +<p>The Lord said, "Yes, I had plenty on hand,<br> +But I left it down on the Rio Grande;<br> +The fact is, old boy, the stuff is so poor<br> +I don't think you could use it in hell anymore."<br> +But the devil went down to look at the truck,<br> +And said if it came as a gift he was stuck;<br> +For after examining it carefully and well<br> +He concluded the place was too dry for hell.</p> + +<p>So, in order to get it off his hands,<br> +The Lord promised the devil to water the lands;<br> +For he had some water, or rather some dregs,<br> +A regular cathartic that smelled like bad eggs.<br> +Hence the deal was closed and the deed was given<br> +And the Lord went back to his home in heaven.<br> +And the devil then said, "I have all that is needed<br> +To make a good hell," and hence he succeeded.</p> + +<p>He <span class="pagenum"><a id="page223" name="page223"></a>(p. 223)</span> began to put thorns in all of the trees,<br> +And mixed up the sand with millions of fleas;<br> +And scattered tarantulas along all the roads;<br> +Put thorns on the cactus and horns on the toads.<br> +He lengthened the horns of the Texas steers,<br> +And put an addition on the rabbit's ears;<br> +He put a little devil in the broncho steed,<br> +And poisoned the feet of the centipede.</p> + +<p>The rattlesnake bites you, the scorpion stings,<br> +The mosquito delights you with buzzing wings;<br> +The sand-burrs prevail and so do the ants,<br> +And those who sit down need half-soles on their pants.<br> +The devil then said that throughout the land<br> +He'd managed to keep up the devil's own brand,<br> +And all would be mavericks unless they bore<br> +The marks of scratches and bites and thorns by the score.</p> + +<p>The heat in the summer is a hundred and ten,<br> +Too hot for the devil and too hot for men.<br> +The wild boar roams through the black chaparral,—<br> +It's a hell of a place he has for a hell.<br> +The red pepper grows on the banks of the brook;<br> +The Mexicans use it in all that they cook.<br> +Just dine with a Greaser and then you will shout,<br> +"I've hell on the inside as well as the out!"</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">BY MARKENTURA'S FLOWERY MARGE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page224" name="page224"></a>(p. 224)</span></p> + +<p>By Markentura's flowery marge the Red Chief's wigwam stood,<br> +Before the white man's rifle rang, loud echoing through the wood;<br> +The tommy-hawk and scalping knife together lay at rest,<br> +And peace was in the forest shade and in the red man's breast.</p> + +<p class="add1em">Oh, the Spotted Fawn, oh, the Spotted Fawn,<br> + The life and light of the forest shade,—<br> + The Red Chief's child is gone!</p> + +<p>By Markentura's flowery marge the Spotted Fawn had birth<br> +And grew as fair an Indian maid as ever graced the earth.<br> +She was the Red Chief's only child and sought by many a brave,<br> +But to the gallant young White Cloud her plighted troth she gave.</p> + +<p>By Markentura's flowery marge the bridal song arose,<br> +Nor dreamed they in that festive night of near approaching woes;<br> +But <span class="pagenum"><a id="page225" name="page225"></a>(p. 225)</span> through the forest stealthily the white man came in wrath.<br> +And fiery darts before them spread, and death was in their path.</p> + +<p>By Markentura's flowery marge next morn no strife was seen,<br> +But a wail went up, for the young Fawn's blood and White Cloud's dyed the green.<br> +A burial in their own rude way the Indians gave them there,<br> +And a low sweet requiem the brook sang and the air.</p> + +<p class="add1em">Oh, the Spotted Fawn, oh, the Spotted Fawn,<br> + The life and light of the forest shade,—<br> + The Red Chief's child is gone!</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE STATE OF ARKANSAW <span class="pagenum"><a id="page226" name="page226"></a>(p. 226)</span></p> + +<p>My name is Stamford Barnes, I come from Nobleville town;<br> +I've traveled this wide world over, I've traveled this wide world round.<br> +I've met with ups and downs in life but better days I've saw,<br> +But I've never knew what misery were till I came to Arkansaw.</p> + +<p>I landed in St. Louis with ten dollars and no more;<br> +I read the daily papers till both my eyes were sore;<br> +I read them evening papers until at last I saw<br> +Ten thousand men were wanted in the state of Arkansaw.</p> + +<p>I wiped my eyes with great surprise when I read this grateful news,<br> +And straightway off I started to see the agent, Billy Hughes.<br> +He says, "Pay me five dollars and a ticket to you I'll draw,<br> +It'll land you safe upon the railroad in the State of Arkansaw."</p> + +<p>I started off one morning a quarter after five;<br> +I started from St. Louis, half dead and half alive;<br> +I <span class="pagenum"><a id="page227" name="page227"></a>(p. 227)</span> bought me a quart of whiskey my misery to thaw,<br> +I got as drunk as a biled owl when I left for old Arkansaw.</p> + +<p>I landed in Ft. Smith one sultry Sunday afternoon,<br> +It was in the month of May, the early month of June,<br> +Up stepped a walking skeleton with a long and lantern jaw,<br> +Invited me to his hotel, "The best in Arkansaw."</p> + +<p>I followed my conductor into his dwelling place;<br> +Poverty were depictured in his melancholy face.<br> +His bread it was corn dodger, his beef I could not chaw;<br> +This was the kind of hash they fed me in the State of Arkansaw.</p> + +<p>I started off next morning to catch the morning train,<br> +He says to me, "You'd better work, for I have some land to drain.<br> +I'll pay you fifty cents a day, your board, washing, and all,—<br> +You'll find yourself a different man when you leave old Arkansaw."</p> + +<p>I worked six weeks for the son of a gun, Jesse Herring was his name,<br> +He was six foot seven in his stocking feet and taller than any crane;<br> +His <span class="pagenum"><a id="page228" name="page228"></a>(p. 228)</span> hair hung down in strings over his long and lantern jaw,—<br> +He was a photograph of all the gents who lived in Arkansaw.</p> + +<p>He fed me on corn dodgers as hard as any rock,<br> +Until my teeth began to loosen and my knees began to knock;<br> +I got so thin on sassafras tea I could hide behind a straw,<br> +And indeed I was a different man when I left old Arkansaw.</p> + +<p>Farewell to swamp angels, cane brakes, and chills;<br> +Farewell to sage and sassafras and corn dodger pills.<br> +If ever I see this land again, I'll give to you my paw;<br> +It will be through a telescope from here to Arkansaw.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE TEXAS COWBOY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page229" name="page229"></a>(p. 229)</span></p> + +<p>Oh, I am a Texas cowboy,<br> +Far away from home,<br> +If ever I get back to Texas<br> +I never more will roam.</p> + +<p>Montana is too cold for me<br> +And the winters are too long;<br> +Before the round-ups do begin<br> +Our money is all gone.</p> + +<p>Take this old hen-skin bedding,<br> +Too thin to keep me warm,—<br> +I nearly freeze to death, my boys.<br> +Whenever there's a storm.</p> + +<p>And take this old "tarpoleon,"<br> +Too thin to shield my frame,—<br> +I got it down in Nebraska<br> +A-dealin' a Monte game.</p> + +<p>Now to win these fancy leggins<br> +I'll have enough to do;<br> +They cost me twenty dollars<br> +The day that they were new.</p> + +<p>I have an outfit on the Mussel Shell,<br> +But that I'll never see,<br> +Unless <span class="pagenum"><a id="page230" name="page230"></a>(p. 230)</span> I get sent to represent<br> +The Circle or D.T.</p> + +<p>I've worked down in Nebraska<br> +Where the grass grows ten feet high,<br> +And the cattle are such rustlers<br> +That they seldom ever die;</p> + +<p>I've worked up in the sand hills<br> +And down upon the Platte,<br> +Where the cowboys are good fellows<br> +And the cattle always fat;</p> + +<p>I've traveled lots of country,—<br> +Nebraska's hills of sand,<br> +Down through the Indian Nation,<br> +And up the Rio Grande;—</p> + +<p>But the Bad Lands of Montana<br> +Are the worst I ever seen,<br> +The cowboys are all tenderfeet<br> +And the dogies are too lean.</p> + +<p>If you want to see some bad lands,<br> +Go over on the Dry;<br> +You will bog down in the coulees<br> +Where the mountains reach the sky.</p> + +<p>A tenderfoot to lead you<br> +Who never knows the way,<br> +You <span class="pagenum"><a id="page231" name="page231"></a>(p. 231)</span> are playing in the best of luck<br> +If you eat more than once a day.</p> + +<p>Your grub is bread and bacon<br> +And coffee black as ink;<br> +The water is so full of alkali<br> +It is hardly fit to drink.</p> + +<p>They will wake you in the morning<br> +Before the break of day,<br> +And send you on a circle<br> +A hundred miles away.</p> + +<p>All along the Yellowstone<br> +'Tis cold the year around;<br> +You will surely get consumption<br> +By sleeping on the ground.</p> + +<p>Work in Montana<br> +Is six months in the year;<br> +When all your bills are settled<br> +There is nothing left for beer.</p> + +<p>Work down in Texas<br> +Is all the year around;<br> +You will never get consumption<br> +By sleeping on the ground.</p> + +<p>Come all you Texas cowboys<br> +And warning take from me,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page232" name="page232"></a>(p. 232)</span> do not go to Montana<br> +To spend your money free.</p> + +<p>But stay at home in Texas<br> +Where work lasts the year around,<br> +And you will never catch consumption<br> +By sleeping on the ground.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE DREARY, DREARY LIFE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page233" name="page233"></a>(p. 233)</span></p> + +<p>A cowboy's life is a dreary, dreary life,<br> +Some say it's free from care;<br> +Rounding up the cattle from morning till night<br> +In the middle of the prairie so bare.</p> + +<p class="add1em">Half-past four, the noisy cook will roar,<br> + "Whoop-a-whoop-a-hey!"<br> + Slowly you will rise with sleepy-feeling eyes,<br> + The sweet, dreamy night passed away.</p> + +<p>The greener lad he thinks it's play,<br> +He'll soon peter out on a cold rainy day,<br> +With his big bell spurs and his Spanish hoss,<br> +He'll swear to you he was once a boss.</p> + +<p>The cowboy's life is a dreary, dreary life,<br> +He's driven through the heat and cold;<br> +While the rich man's a-sleeping on his velvet couch,<br> +Dreaming of his silver and gold.</p> + +<p>Spring-time sets in, double trouble will begin,<br> +The weather is so fierce and cold;<br> +Clothes are wet and frozen to our necks,<br> +The cattle we can scarcely hold.</p> + +<p>The cowboy's life is a dreary one,<br> +He works all day to the setting of the sun;<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page234" name="page234"></a>(p. 234)</span> then his day's work is not done,<br> +For there's his night herd to go on.</p> + +<p>The wolves and owls with their terrifying howls<br> +Will disturb us in our midnight dream,<br> +As we lie on our slickers on a cold, rainy night<br> +Way over on the Pecos stream.</p> + +<p>You are speaking of your farms, you are speaking of your charms,<br> +You are speaking of your silver and gold;<br> +But a cowboy's life is a dreary, dreary life,<br> +He's driven through the heat and cold.</p> + +<p>Some folks say that we are free from care,<br> +Free from all other harm;<br> +But we round up the cattle from morning till night<br> +Way over on the prairie so dry.</p> + +<p>I used to run about, now I stay at home,<br> +Take care of my wife and child;<br> +Nevermore to roam, always stay at home,<br> +Take care of my wife and child.</p> + +<p class="add1em">Half-past four the noisy cook will roar,<br> + "Hurrah, boys! she's breaking day!"<br> + Slowly we will rise and wipe our sleepy eyes,<br> + The sweet, dreamy night passed away.</p> + +<h4>The Dreary, Dreary Life <span class="pagenum"><a id="page235" name="page235"></a>(p. 235)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/drearylife.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/drearylife.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/drearylife.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/drearylife_full.png"> +<img src="images/drearylife_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="The Dreary Life"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">JIM FARROW <span class="pagenum"><a id="page237" name="page237"></a>(p. 237)</span></p> + +<p>It's Jim Farrow and John Farrow and little Simon, too,<br> +Have plenty of cattle where I have but few.<br> +Marking and branding both night and day,—<br> +It's "Keep still, boys, my boys, and you'll all get your pay."<br> +It's up to the courthouse, the first thing they know,<br> +Before the Grand Jury they'll have to go.<br> +They'll ask you about ear-marks, they'll ask you about brand,<br> +But tell them you were absent when the work was on hand.<br> +Jim Farrow brands J.F. on the side;<br> +The next comes Johnnie who takes the whole hide;<br> +Little Simon, too has H. on the loin;—<br> +All stand for Farrow but it's not good for Sime.<br> +You ask for the mark, I don't think it's fair,<br> +You'll find the cow's head but the ear isn't there<br> +It's a crop and a split and a sort of a twine,—<br> +All stand for F. but it's not good for Sime.</p> + +<p>"Get up, my boys," Jim Farrow will say,<br> +"And out to horse hunting before it is day."<br> +So we get up and are out on the way<br> +But it's damn few horses we find before day.<br> +"Now saddle your horses and out on the peaks<br> +To <span class="pagenum"><a id="page238" name="page238"></a>(p. 238)</span> see if the heifers are out on the creeks."<br> +We'll round 'em to-day and we'll round 'em to-morrow,<br> +And this ends my song concerning the Farrows.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">YOUNG CHARLOTTIE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page239" name="page239"></a>(p. 239)</span></p> + +<p>Young Charlottie lived by a mountain side in a wild and lonely spot,<br> +There was no village for miles around except her father's cot;<br> +And yet on many a wintry night young boys would gather there,—<br> +Her father kept a social board, and she was very fair.</p> + +<p>One New Year's Eve as the sun went down, she cast a wistful eye<br> +Out from the window pane as a merry sleigh went by.<br> +At a village fifteen miles away was to be a ball that night;<br> +Although the air was piercing cold, her heart was merry and light.</p> + +<p>At last her laughing eye lit up as a well-known voice she heard,<br> +And dashing in front of the door her lover's sleigh appeared.<br> +"O daughter, dear," her mother said, "this blanket round you fold,<br> +'Tis such a dreadful night abroad and you will catch your death of cold."</p> + +<p>"Oh <span class="pagenum"><a id="page240" name="page240"></a>(p. 240)</span> no, oh no!" young Charlottie cried, as she laughed like a gipsy queen,<br> +"To ride in blankets muffled up, I never would be seen.<br> +My silken coat is quite enough, you know it is lined throughout,<br> +And there is my silken scarf to wrap my head and neck about."</p> + +<p>Her bonnet and her gloves were on, she jumped into the sleigh,<br> +And swiftly slid down the mountain side and over the hills away.<br> +All muffled up so silent, five miles at last were past<br> +When Charlie with few but shivering words, the silence broke at last.</p> + +<p>"Such a dreadful night I never saw, my reins I can scarcely hold."<br> +Young Charlottie then feebly said, "I am exceedingly cold."<br> +He cracked his whip and urged his speed much faster than before,<br> +While at least five other miles in silence had passed o'er.</p> + +<p>Spoke Charles, "How fast the freezing ice is gathering on my brow!"<br> +Young Charlottie then feebly said, "I'm growing warmer now."<br> +So <span class="pagenum"><a id="page241" name="page241"></a>(p. 241)</span> on they sped through the frosty air and the glittering cold starlight<br> +Until at last the village lights and the ball-room came in sight.</p> + +<p>They reached the door and Charles sprang out and reached his hands to her.<br> +"Why sit you there like a monument that has no power to stir?"<br> +He called her once, he called her twice, she answered not a word,<br> +And then he called her once again but still she never stirred.</p> + +<p>He took her hand in his; 'twas cold and hard as any stone.<br> +He tore the mantle from her face while cold stars on it shone.<br> +Then quickly to the lighted hall her lifeless form he bore;—<br> +Young Charlottie's eyes were closed forever, her voice was heard no more.</p> + +<p>And there he sat down by her side while bitter tears did flow,<br> +And cried, "My own, my charming bride, you nevermore shall know."<br> +He twined his arms around her neck and kissed her marble brow,<br> +And his thoughts flew back to where she said, "I'm growing warmer now."</p> + +<p>He <span class="pagenum"><a id="page242" name="page242"></a>(p. 242)</span> took her back into the sleigh and quickly hurried home;<br> +When he arrived at her father's door, oh, how her friends did mourn;<br> +They mourned the loss of a daughter dear, while Charles wept over the gloom,<br> +Till at last he died with the bitter grief,—now they both lie in one tomb.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE SKEW-BALL BLACK <span class="pagenum"><a id="page243" name="page243"></a>(p. 243)</span></p> + +<p>It was down to Red River I came,<br> +Prepared to play a damned tough game,—<br> +Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!</p> + +<p>I crossed the river to the ranch where I intended to work,<br> +With a big six-shooter and a derned good dirk,—<br> +Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!</p> + +<p>They roped me out a skew-ball black<br> +With a double set-fast on his back,—<br> +Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!</p> + +<p>And when I was mounted on his back,<br> +The boys all yelled, "Just give him slack,"—<br> +Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!</p> + +<p>They rolled and tumbled and yelled, by God,<br> +For he threw me a-whirling all over the sod,—<br> +Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!</p> + +<p>I went to the boss and I told him I'd resign,<br> +The fool tumbled over, and I thought he was dyin',—<br> +Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!</p> + +<p>And it's to Arkansaw I'll go back,<br> +To hell with Texas and the skew-ball black,—<br> +Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE RAMBLING COWBOY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page244" name="page244"></a>(p. 244)</span></p> + +<p>There was a rich old rancher who lived in the country by,<br> +He had a lovely daughter on whom I cast my eye;<br> +She was pretty, tall, and handsome, both neat and very fair,<br> +There's no other girl in the country with her I could compare.</p> + +<p>I asked her if she would be willing for me to cross the plains;<br> +She said she would be truthful until I returned again;<br> +She said she would be faithful until death did prove unkind,<br> +So we kissed, shook hands, and parted, and I left my girl behind.</p> + +<p>I left the State of Texas, for Arizona I was bound;<br> +I landed in Tombstone City, I viewed the place all round.<br> +Money and work were plentiful and the cowboys they were kind<br> +But the only thought of my heart was the girl I left behind.</p> + +<p>One day as I was riding across the public square<br> +The mail-coach came in and I met the driver there;<br> +He <span class="pagenum"><a id="page245" name="page245"></a>(p. 245)</span> handed me a letter which gave me to understand<br> +That the girl I left in Texas had married another man.</p> + +<p>I turned myself all round and about not knowing what to do,<br> +But I read on down some further and it proved the words were true.<br> +Hard work I have laid over, it's gambling I have designed.<br> +I'll ramble this wide world over for the girl I left behind.</p> + +<p>Come all you reckless and rambling boys who have listened to this song,<br> +If it hasn't done you any good, it hasn't done you any wrong;<br> +But when you court a pretty girl, just marry her while you can,<br> +For if you go across the plains she'll marry another man.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE COWBOY AT CHURCH <span class="pagenum"><a id="page246" name="page246"></a>(p. 246)</span></p> + +<p>Some time ago,—two weeks or more<br> +If I remember well,—<br> +I found myself in town and thought<br> +I'd knock around a spell,<br> +When all at once I heard the bell,—<br> +I didn't know 'twas Sunday,—<br> +For on the plains we scarcely know<br> +A Sunday from a Monday,—</p> + +<p>A-calling all the people<br> +From the highways and the hedges<br> +And all the reckless throng<br> +That tread ruin's ragged edges,<br> +To come and hear the pastor tell<br> +Salvation's touching story,<br> +And how the new road misses hell<br> +And leads you straight to glory.</p> + +<p>I started by the chapel door,<br> +But something urged me in,<br> +And told me not to spend God's day<br> +In revelry and sin.<br> +I don't go much on sentiment,<br> +But tears came in my eyes.<br> +It seemed just like my mother's voice<br> +Was speaking from the skies.</p> + +<p>I <span class="pagenum"><a id="page247" name="page247"></a>(p. 247)</span> thought how often she had gone<br> +With little Sis and me<br> +To church, when I was but a lad<br> +Way back in Tennessee.<br> +It never once occurred to me<br> +About not being dressed<br> +In Sunday rig, but carelessly<br> +I went in with the rest.</p> + +<p>You should have seen the smiles and shrugs<br> +As I went walking in,<br> +As though they thought my leggins<br> +Worse than any kind of sin;<br> +Although the honest parson,<br> +In his vestry garb arrayed<br> +Was dressed the same as I was,—<br> +In the trappings of his trade.</p> + +<p>The good man prayed for all the world<br> +And all its motley crew,<br> +For pagan, Hindoo, sinners, Turk,<br> +And unbelieving Jew,—<br> +Though the congregation doubtless thought<br> +That the cowboys as a race<br> +Were a kind of moral outlaw<br> +With no good claim to grace.</p> + +<p>Is it very strange that cowboys are<br> +A rough and reckless crew<br> +When their garb forbids their doing right<br> +As Christian people do?<br> +That <span class="pagenum"><a id="page248" name="page248"></a>(p. 248)</span> they frequent scenes of revelry<br> +Where death is bought and sold,<br> +Where at least they get a welcome<br> +Though it's prompted by their gold?</p> + +<p>Stranger, did it ever strike you,<br> +When the winter days are gone<br> +And the mortal grass is springing up<br> +To meet the judgment sun,<br> +And we 'tend mighty round-ups<br> +Where, according to the Word,<br> +The angel cowboy of the Lord<br> +Will cut the human herd,—</p> + +<p>That a heap of stock that's lowing now<br> +Around the Master's pen<br> +And feeding at his fodder stack<br> +Will have the brand picked then?<br> +And brands that when the hair was long<br> +Looked like the letter C,<br> +Will prove to be the devil's,<br> +And the brand the letter D;</p> + +<p>While many a long-horned coaster,—<br> +I mean, just so to speak,—<br> +That hasn't had the advantage<br> +Of the range and gospel creek<br> +Will get to crop the grasses<br> +In the pasture of the Lord<br> +If the letter C showed up<br> +Beneath the devil's checker board.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE U. S. A. RECRUIT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page249" name="page249"></a>(p. 249)</span></p> + +<p>Now list to my song, it will not take me long,<br> +And in some things with me you'll agree;<br> +A young man so green came in from Moline,<br> +And enlisted a soldier to be.<br> +He had lots of pluck, on himself he was stuck,<br> +In his Government straights he looked "boss,"<br> +And he chewed enough beans for a hoss.</p> + +<p class="add1em">He was a rookey, so flukey,<br> + He was a jim dandy you all will agree,<br> + He said without fear, "Before I'm a year<br> + In the Army, great changes you'll see."<br> + He was a stone thrower, a foam blower,<br> + He was a Loo Loo you bet,<br> + He stood on his head and these words gently said,<br> + "I'll be second George Washington yet."</p> + +<p>At his post he did land, they took him in hand,<br> +The old bucks they all gathered 'round,<br> +Saying "Give us your fist; where did you enlist?<br> +You'll take on again I'll be bound;<br> +I've a blanket to sell, it will fit you quite well,<br> +I'll sell you the whole or a piece.<br> +I've a dress coat to trade, or a helmet unmade,<br> +It will do you for kitchen police."</p> + +<p>Then <span class="pagenum"><a id="page250" name="page250"></a>(p. 250)</span> the top said, "My Son, here is a gun,<br> +Just heel ball that musket up bright.<br> +In a few days or more you'll be rolling in gore,<br> +A-chasing wild Goo Goos to flight.<br> +There'll be fighting, you see, and blood flowing free,<br> +We'll send you right on to the front;<br> +And never you fear, if you're wounded, my dear,<br> +You'll be pensioned eight dollars per month."</p> + +<p>He was worried so bad, he blew in all he had;<br> +He went on a drunk with goodwill.<br> +And the top did report, "One private short."<br> +When he showed up he went to the mill.<br> +The proceedings we find were a ten dollar blind,<br> +Ten dollars less to blow foam.<br> +This was long years ago, and this rookey you know<br> +Is now in the old soldiers' home.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE COWGIRL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page251" name="page251"></a>(p. 251)</span></p> + +<p>My love is a rider and broncos he breaks,<br> +But he's given up riding and all for my sake;<br> +For he found him a horse and it suited him so<br> +He vowed he'd ne'er ride any other bronco.</p> + +<p>My love has a gun, and that gun he can use,<br> +But he's quit his gun fighting as well as his booze;<br> +And he's sold him his saddle, his spurs, and his rope,<br> +And there's no more cow punching, and that's what I hope.</p> + +<p>My love has a gun that has gone to the bad,<br> +Which makes poor old Jimmy feel pretty damn sad;<br> +For the gun it shoots high and the gun it shoots low,<br> +And it wobbles about like a bucking bronco.</p> + +<p>The cook is an unfortunate son of a gun;<br> +He has to be up e'er the rise of the sun;<br> +His language is awful, his curses are deep,—<br> +He is like cascarets, for he works while you sleep.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE SHANTY BOY</p> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page252" name="page252"></a>(p. 252)</span> + +<p>I am a jolly shanty boy,<br> +As you will soon discover.<br> +To all the dodges I am fly,<br> +A hustling pine woods rover.<br> +A peavy hook it is my pride,<br> +An ax I well can handle;<br> +To fell a tree or punch a bull<br> +Get rattling Danny Randall.</p> + +<p>Bung yer eye: bung yer eye.</p> + +<p>I love a girl in Saginaw;<br> +She lives with her mother;<br> +I defy all Michigan<br> +To find such another.<br> +She's tall and fat, her hair is red,<br> +Her face is plump and pretty,<br> +She's my daisy, Sunday-best-day girl,—<br> +And her front name stands for Kitty.</p> + +<p>Bung yer eye: bung yer eye.</p> + +<p>I took her to a dance one night,<br> +A mossback gave the bidding;<br> +Silver Jack bossed the shebang<br> +And Big Dan played the fiddle.<br> +We <span class="pagenum"><a id="page253" name="page253"></a>(p. 253)</span> danced and drank, the livelong night.<br> +With fights between the dancing—<br> +Till Silver Jack cleaned out the ranch<br> +And sent the mossbacks prancing.</p> + +<p>Bung yer eye: bung yer eye.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">ROOT HOG OR DIE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page254" name="page254"></a>(p. 254)</span></p> + +<p>When I was a young man I lived on the square,<br> +I never had any pocket change and I hardly thought it fair;<br> +So out on the crosses I went to rob and to steal,<br> +And when I met a peddler oh, how happy I did feel.</p> + +<p>One morning, one morning, one morning in May<br> +I seen a man a-coming, a little bit far away;<br> +I seen a man a-coming, come riding up to me<br> +"Come here, come here, young fellow, I'm after you to-day."</p> + +<p>He taken me to the new jail, he taken me to the new jail,<br> +And I had to walk right in.<br> +There all my friends went back on me<br> +And also my kin.</p> + +<p>I had an old rich uncle, who lived in the West,<br> +He heard of my misfortune, it wouldn't let him rest;<br> +He came to see me, he paid my bills and score,—<br> +I have been a bad boy, I'll do so no more.</p> + +<p>There's Minnie and Alice and Lucy likewise,<br> +They heard of my misfortune brought tears to their eyes.<br> +I've <span class="pagenum"><a id="page255" name="page255"></a>(p. 255)</span> told 'em my condition, I've told it o'er and o'er;<br> +So I've been a bad boy, I'll do so no more.</p> + +<p>I will go to East Texas to marry me a wife,<br> +And try to maintain her the balance of my life;<br> +I'll try to maintain; I'll lay it up in store<br> +I've been a bad boy, I'll do so no more.</p> + +<p>Young man, you robber, you had better take it fair,<br> +Leave off your marshal killing and live on the square;<br> +Should you meet the marshal, just pass him by;<br> +And travel on the muscular, for it's root hog or die.</p> + +<p>When I drew my money I drew it all in cash<br> +And off to see my Susan, you bet I cut a dash;<br> +I spent my money freely and went it on a bum,<br> +And I love the pretty women and am bound to have my fun.</p> + +<p>I used to sport a white hat, a horse and buggy fine,<br> +Courted a pretty girl and always called her mine;<br> +But all my courtships proved to be in vain,<br> +For they sent me down to Huntsville to wear the ball and chain.</p> + +<p>Along came my true love, about twelve o'clock,<br> +Saying, "Henry, O Henry, what sentence have you got?"<br> +The jury found me guilty, the judge would allow no stay,<br> +So they sent me down to Huntsville to wear my life away.</p> + +<h4>Root Hog or Die <span class="pagenum"><a id="page256" name="page256"></a>(p. 256)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/roothogordie.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/roothogordie.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/roothogordie.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/roothogordie_full.png"> +<img src="images/roothogordie_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Root Hog or Die"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">SWEET BETSY FROM PIKE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page258" name="page258"></a>(p. 258)</span><br> + +<span class="add2em">"A California Immigrant Song of the Fifties"</span></p> + +<p>Oh, don't you remember sweet Betsy from Pike<br> +Who crossed the big mountains with her lover Ike,<br> +And two yoke of cattle, a large yellow dog,<br> +A tall, shanghai rooster, and one spotted hog?<br> + <span class="add3em">Saying, good-bye, Pike County,</span><br> + <span class="add3em">Farewell for a while;</span><br> + <span class="add3em">We'll come back again</span><br> + <span class="add3em">When we've panned out our pile.</span></p> + +<p>One evening quite early they camped on the Platte,<br> +'Twas near by the road on a green shady flat;<br> +Where Betsy, quite tired, lay down to repose,<br> +While with wonder Ike gazed on his Pike County rose.</p> + +<p>They soon reached the desert, where Betsy gave out,<br> +And down in the sand she lay rolling about;<br> +While Ike in great terror looked on in surprise,<br> +Saying "Betsy, get up, you'll get sand in your eyes."<br> + <span class="add3em">Saying, good-bye, Pike County,</span><br> + <span class="add3em">Farewell for a while;</span><br> + <span class="add3em">I'd go back to-night</span><br> + <span class="add3em">If it was but a mile.</span></p> + +<p>Sweet <span class="pagenum"><a id="page259" name="page259"></a>(p. 259)</span> Betsy got up in a great deal of pain<br> +And declared she'd go back to Pike County again;<br> +Then Ike heaved a sigh and they fondly embraced,<br> +And she traveled along with his arm around her waist.</p> + +<p>The wagon tipped over with a terrible crash,<br> +And out on the prairie rolled all sorts of trash;<br> +A few little baby clothes done up with care<br> +Looked rather suspicious,—though 'twas all on the square.</p> + +<p>The shanghai ran off and the cattle all died,<br> +The last piece of bacon that morning was fried;<br> +Poor Ike got discouraged, and Betsy got mad,<br> +The dog wagged his tail and looked wonderfully sad.</p> + +<p>One morning they climbed up a very high hill,<br> +And with wonder looked down into old Placerville;<br> +Ike shouted and said, as he cast his eyes down,<br> +"Sweet Betsy, my darling, we've got to Hangtown."</p> + +<p>Long Ike and sweet Betsy attended a dance,<br> +Where Ike wore a pair of his Pike County pants;<br> +Sweet Betsy was covered with ribbons and rings.<br> +Quoth Ike, "You're an angel, but where are your wings?"</p> + +<p>A miner <span class="pagenum"><a id="page260" name="page260"></a>(p. 260)</span> said, "Betsy, will you dance with me?"<br> +"I will that, old hoss, if you don't make too free;<br> +But don't dance me hard. Do you want to know why?<br> +Dog on ye, I'm chock full of strong alkali."</p> + +<p>Long Ike and sweet Betsy got married of course,<br> +But Ike getting jealous obtained a divorce;<br> +And Betsy, well satisfied, said with a shout,<br> +"Good-bye, you big lummax, I'm glad you backed out."<br> + <span class="add3em">Saying, good-bye, dear Isaac,</span><br> + <span class="add3em">Farewell for a while,</span><br> + <span class="add3em">But come back in time</span><br> + <span class="add3em">To replenish my pile.</span></p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE DISHEARTENED RANGER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page261" name="page261"></a>(p. 261)</span></p> + +<p>Come listen to a ranger, you kind-hearted stranger,<br> +This song, though a sad one, you're welcome to hear;<br> +We've kept the Comanches away from your ranches,<br> +And followed them far o'er the Texas frontier.</p> + +<p>We're weary of scouting, of traveling, and routing<br> +The blood-thirsty villains o'er prairie and wood;<br> +No rest for the sinner, no breakfast or dinner,<br> +But he lies in a supperless bed in the mud.</p> + +<p>No corn nor potatoes, no bread nor tomatoes,<br> +But jerked beef as dry as the sole of your shoe;<br> +All day without drinking, all night without winking,<br> +I'll tell you, kind stranger, this never will do.</p> + +<p>Those great alligators, the State legislators,<br> +Are puffing and blowing two-thirds of their time,<br> +But windy orations about rangers and rations<br> +Never put in our pockets one-tenth of a dime.</p> + +<p>They do not regard us, they will not reward us,<br> +Though hungry and haggard with holes in our coats;<br> +But the election is coming and they will be drumming<br> +And praising our valor to purchase our votes.</p> + +<p>For <span class="pagenum"><a id="page262" name="page262"></a>(p. 262)</span> glory and payment, for vittles and raiment,<br> +No longer we'll fight on the Texas frontier.<br> +So guard your own ranches, and mind the Comanches<br> +Or surely they'll scalp you in less than a year.</p> + +<p>Though sore it may grieve you, the rangers must leave you<br> +Exposed to the arrows and knife of the foe;<br> +So herd your own cattle and fight your own battle,<br> +For home to the States I'm determined to go,—</p> + +<p>Where churches have steeples and laws are more equal,<br> +Where houses have people and ladies are kind;<br> +Where work is regarded and worth is rewarded;<br> +Where pumpkins are plenty and pockets are lined.</p> + +<p>Your wives and your daughters we have guarded from slaughter,<br> +Through conflicts and struggles I shudder to tell;<br> +No more well defend them, to God we'll commend them.<br> +To the frontier of Texas we bid a farewell.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE MELANCHOLY COWBOY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page263" name="page263"></a>(p. 263)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you melancholy folks and listen unto me,<br> +I will sing you about the cowboy whose heart's so light and free;<br> +He roves all over the prairie and at night when he lays down<br> +His heart's as gay as the flowers of May with his bed spread on the ground.</p> + +<p>They are a little bit rough, I must confess, the most of them at least;<br> +But as long as you do not cross their trail, you can live with them in peace.<br> +But if you do, they're sure to rule, the day you come to their land,<br> +For they'll follow you up and shoot it out, they'll do it man to man.</p> + +<p>You can go to a cowboy hungry, go to him wet or dry,<br> +And ask him for a few dollars in change and he will not deny;<br> +He will pull out his pocket-book and hand you out a note,—<br> +Oh, they are the fellows to strike, boys, whenever you are broke.</p> + +<p>You <span class="pagenum"><a id="page264" name="page264"></a>(p. 264)</span> can go to their ranches and often stay for weeks,<br> +And when you go to leave, boys, they'll never charge you a cent;<br> +But when they go to town, boys, you bet their money is spent.<br> +They walk right up, they take their drinks and they pay for every one.<br> +They never ask your pardon, boys, for a thing that they have done.</p> + +<p>They go to the ball-room, and swing the pretty girls around;<br> +They ride their bucking broncos, and wear their broad-brimmed hats;<br> +Their California saddles, their pants below their boots,<br> +You can hear their spurs go jing-a-ling, or perhaps somebody shoots.</p> + +<p>Come all you soft and tenderfeet, if you want to have some fun,<br> +Come go among the cowboys and they'll show you how it's done;<br> +But take the kind advice of me as I gave it to you before,<br> +For if you don't, they'll order you off with an old Colt's forty-four.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">BOB STANFORD <span class="pagenum"><a id="page265" name="page265"></a>(p. 265)</span></p> + +<p>Bob Stanford, he's a Texas boy,<br> +He lives down on the flat;<br> +His trade is running a well-drill,<br> +But he's none the worse for that.</p> + +<p>He is neither rich nor handsome,<br> +But, unlike the city dude,<br> +His manners they are pleasant<br> +Instead of flip and rude.</p> + +<p>His people live in Texas,<br> +That is his native home,<br> +But like many other Western lads<br> +He drifted off from home.</p> + +<p>He came out to New Mexico<br> +A fortune for to make,<br> +He punched the bottom out of the earth<br> +And never made a stake.</p> + +<p>So he came to Arizona<br> +And again set up his drill<br> +To punch a hole for water,<br> +And he's punching at it still.</p> + +<p>He says he is determined<br> +To make the business stick<br> +Or <span class="pagenum"><a id="page266" name="page266"></a>(p. 266)</span> spend that derned old well machine<br> +And all he can get on tick.</p> + +<p>I hope he is successful<br> +And I'll help him if I can,<br> +For I admire pluck and ambition<br> +In an honest working man.</p> + +<p>So keep on going down,<br> +Punch the bottom out, or try,<br> +There is nothing in a hole in the ground<br> +That continues being dry.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">CHARLIE RUTLAGE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page267" name="page267"></a>(p. 267)</span></p> + +<p>Another good cow-puncher has gone to meet his fate,<br> +I hope he'll find a resting place within the golden gate.<br> +Another place is vacant on the ranch of the X I T,<br> +'Twill be hard to find another that's liked as well as he.</p> + +<p>The first that died was Kid White, a man both tough and brave,<br> +While Charlie Rutlage makes the third to be sent to his grave,<br> +Caused by a cow-horse falling while running after stock;<br> +'Twas on the spring round-up,—a place where death men mock.</p> + +<p>He went forward one morning on a circle through the hills,<br> +He was gay and full of glee, and free from earthly ills;<br> +But when it came to finish up the work on which he went,<br> +Nothing came back from him; for his time on earth was spent.</p> + +<p>'Twas <span class="pagenum"><a id="page268" name="page268"></a>(p. 268)</span> as he rode the round-up, an X I T turned back to the herd;<br> +Poor Charlie shoved him in again, his cutting horse he spurred;<br> +Another turned; at that moment his horse the creature spied<br> +And turned and fell with him, and beneath, poor Charlie died.</p> + +<p>His relations in Texas his face never more will see,<br> +But I hope he will meet his loved ones beyond in eternity.<br> +I hope he will meet his parents, will meet them face to face,<br> +And that they will grasp him by the right hand at the shining throne of grace.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE RANGE RIDERS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page269" name="page269"></a>(p. 269)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you range riders and listen to me,<br> +I will relate you a story of the saddest degree,<br> +I will relate you a story of the deepest distress,—<br> +I love my poor Lulu, boys, of all girls the best.</p> + +<p>When you are out riding, boys, upon the highway,<br> +Meet a fair damsel, a lady so gay,<br> +With her red, rosy cheeks and her sparkling dark eyes,<br> +Just think of my Lulu, boys, and your bosoms will rise.</p> + +<p>While you live single, boys, you are just in your prime;<br> +You have no wife to scold, you have nothing to bother your minds;<br> +You can roam this world over and do just as you will,<br> +Hug and kiss the pretty girls and be your own still.</p> + +<p>But when you get married, boys, you are done with this life,<br> +You have sold your sweet comfort for to gain you a wife;<br> +Your <span class="pagenum"><a id="page270" name="page270"></a>(p. 270)</span> wife she will scold you, and the children will cry,<br> +It will make those fair faces look withered and dry.</p> + +<p>You can scarcely step aside, boys, to speak to a friend<br> +But your wife is at your elbow saying what do you mean.<br> +With her nose turned upon you it will look like sad news,—<br> +I advise you by experience that life to refuse.</p> + +<p>Come fill up your bottles, boys, drink Bourbon around;<br> +Here is luck to the single wherever they are found.<br> +Here is luck to the single and I wish them success,<br> +Likewise to the married ones, I wish them no less.</p> + +<p>I have one more request to make, boys, before we part.<br> +Never place your affection on a charming sweetheart.<br> +She is dancing before you your affections to gain;<br> +Just turn your back on them with scorn and disdain.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">HER WHITE BOSOM BARE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page271" name="page271"></a>(p. 271)</span></p> + +<p>The sun had gone down<br> +O'er the hills of the west,<br> +And the last beams had faded<br> +O'er the mossy hill's crest,<br> +O'er the beauties of nature<br> +And the charms of the fair,<br> +And Amanda was bound<br> +With her white bosom bare.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the mountain<br> +Amanda did sigh<br> +At the hoot of an owl<br> +Or the catamount's cry;<br> +Or the howl of some wolf<br> +In its low, granite cell,<br> +Or the crash of some large<br> +Forest tree as it fell.</p> + +<p>Amanda was there<br> +All friendless and forlorn<br> +With her face bathed in blood<br> +And her garments all torn.<br> +The sunlight had faded<br> +O'er the hills of the green,<br> +And fierce was the look<br> +Of the wild, savage scene.</p> + +<p>For <span class="pagenum"><a id="page272" name="page272"></a>(p. 272)</span> it was out in the forest<br> +Where the wild game springs,<br> +Where low in the branches<br> +The rude hammock swings;<br> +The campfire was kindled,<br> +Well fanned by the breeze,<br> +And the light of the campfire<br> +Shone round on the trees.</p> + +<p>The campfire was kindled,<br> +Well fanned by the breeze,<br> +And the light of the fire<br> +Shone round on the trees;<br> +And grim stood the circle<br> +Of the warrior throng,<br> +Impatient to join<br> +In the war-dance and song.</p> + +<p>The campfire was kindled,<br> +Each warrior was there,<br> +And Amanda was bound<br> +With her white bosom bare.<br> +She counted the vengeance<br> +In the face of her foes<br> +And sighed for the moment<br> +When her sufferings might close.</p> + +<p>Young Albon, he gazed<br> +On the face of the fair<br> +While her dark hazel eyes<br> +Were <span class="pagenum"><a id="page273" name="page273"></a>(p. 273)</span> uplifted in prayer;<br> +And her dark waving tresses<br> +In ringlets did flow<br> +Which hid from the gazer<br> +A bosom of snow.</p> + +<p>Then young Albon, the chief<br> +Of the warriors, drew near,<br> +With an eye like an eagle<br> +And a step like a deer.<br> +"Forbear," cried he,<br> +"Your torture forbear;<br> +This maiden shall live.<br> +By my wampum I swear.</p> + +<p>"It is for this maiden's freedom<br> +That I do crave;<br> +Give a sigh for her suffering<br> +Or a tear for her grave.<br> +If there is a victim<br> +To be burned at that tree,<br> +Young Albon, your leader,<br> +That victim shall be."</p> + +<p>Then quick to the arms<br> +Of Amanda he rushed;<br> +The rebel was dead,<br> +And the tumult was hushed;<br> +And grim stood the circle<br> +Of warriors around<br> +While <span class="pagenum"><a id="page274" name="page274"></a>(p. 274)</span> the cords of Amanda<br> +Young Albon unbound.</p> + +<p>So it was early next morning<br> +The red, white, and blue<br> +Went gliding o'er the waters<br> +In a small birch canoe;<br> +Just like the white swan<br> +That glides o'er the tide,<br> +Young Albon and Amanda<br> +O'er the waters did ride.</p> + +<p>O'er the blue, bubbling water,<br> +Neath the evergreen trees,<br> +Young Albon and Amanda<br> +Did ride at their ease;<br> +And great was the joy<br> +When she stepped on the shore<br> +To embrace her dear father<br> +And mother once more.</p> + +<p>Young Albon, he stood<br> +And enjoyed their embrace,<br> +With a sigh in his heart<br> +And a tear on his face;<br> +And all that he asked<br> +Was kindness and food<br> +From the parents of Amanda<br> +To the chief of the woods.</p> + +<p>Young <span class="pagenum"><a id="page275" name="page275"></a>(p. 275)</span> Amanda is home now,<br> +As you all know,<br> +Enjoying the friends<br> +Of her own native shore;<br> +Nevermore will she roam<br> +O'er the hills or the plains;<br> +She praises the chief<br> +That loosened her chains.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">JUAN MURRAY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page276" name="page276"></a>(p. 276)</span></p> + +<p>My name is Juan Murray, and hard for my fate,<br> +I was born and raised in Texas, that good old lone star state.<br> +I have been to many a round-up, boys, have worked on the trail,<br> +Have stood many a long old guard through the rain, yes, sleet, and hail;<br> +I have rode the Texas broncos that pitched from morning till noon,<br> +And have seen many a storm, boys, between sunrise, yes, and noon.</p> + +<p>I am a jolly cowboy and have roamed all over the West,<br> +And among the bronco riders I rank among the best.<br> +But when I left old Midland, with voice right then I spoke,—<br> +"I never will see you again until the day I croak."</p><br> + +<p>But since I left old Texas so many sights I have saw<br> +A-traveling from my native state way out to Mexico,—<br> +I am looking all around me and cannot help but smile<br> +To see my nearest neighbors all in the Mexican style.</p> + +<p>I left <span class="pagenum"><a id="page277" name="page277"></a>(p. 277)</span> my home in Texas to dodge the ball and chain.<br> +In the State of Sonora I will forever remain.<br> +Farewell to my mother, my friends that are so dear,<br> +I would like to see you all again, my lonesome heart to cheer.</p> + +<p>I have a word to speak, boys, only another to say,—<br> +Don't never be a cow-thief, don't never ride a stray;<br> +Be careful of your line, boys, and keep it on your tree,—<br> +Just suit yourself about it, for it is nothing to me.</p> + +<p>But if you start to rustling you will come to some sad fate,<br> +You will have to go to prison and work for the state.<br> +Don't think that I am lying and trying to tell a joke,<br> +For the writer has experienced just every word he's spoke.</p> + +<p>It is better to be honest and let other's stock alone<br> +Than to leave your native country and seek a Mexican home.<br> +For if you start to rustling you will surely come to see<br> +The State of Sonora,—be an outcast just like me.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">GREER COUNTY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page278" name="page278"></a>(p. 278)</span></p> + +<p>Tom Hight is my name, an old bachelor I am,<br> +You'll find me out West in the country of fame,<br> +You'll find me out West on an elegant plain,<br> +And starving to death on my government claim.</p> + + <p class="add2em">Hurrah for Greer County!<br> + The land of the free,<br> + The land of the bed-bug,<br> + Grass-hopper and flea;<br> + I'll sing of its praises<br> + And tell of its fame,<br> + While starving to death<br> + On my government claim.</p> + +<p>My house is built of natural sod,<br> +Its walls are erected according to hod;<br> +Its roof has no pitch but is level and plain,<br> +I always get wet if it happens to rain.</p> + +<p>How happy am I on my government claim,<br> +I've nothing to lose, and nothing to gain;<br> +I've nothing to eat, I've nothing to wear,—<br> +From nothing to nothing is the hardest fare.</p> + +<p>How happy am I when I crawl into bed,—<br> +A rattlesnake hisses a tune at my head,<br> +A <span class="pagenum"><a id="page279" name="page279"></a>(p. 279)</span> gay little centipede, all without fear,<br> +Crawls over my pillow and into my ear.</p> + +<p>Now all you claim holders, I hope you will stay<br> +And chew your hard tack till you're toothless and gray;<br> +But for myself, I'll no longer remain<br> +To starve like a dog on my government claim.</p> + +<p>My clothes are all ragged as my language is rough,<br> +My bread is corn dodgers, both solid and tough;<br> +But yet I am happy, and live at my ease<br> +On sorghum molasses, bacon, and cheese.</p> + +<p>Good-bye to Greer County where blizzards arise,<br> +Where the sun never sinks and a flea never dies,<br> +And the wind never ceases but always remains<br> +Till it starves us all out on our government claims.</p> + +<p>Farewell to Greer County, farewell to the West,<br> +I'll travel back East to the girl I love best,<br> +I'll travel back to Texas and marry me a wife,<br> +And quit corn bread for the rest of my life.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">ROSIN THE BOW <span class="pagenum"><a id="page280" name="page280"></a>(p. 280)</span></p> + +<p>I live for the good of my nation<br> +And my sons are all growing low,<br> +But I hope that my next generation<br> +Will resemble Old Rosin the Bow.</p> + +<p>I have traveled this wide world all over,<br> +And now to another I'll go,<br> +For I know that good quarters are waiting<br> +To welcome Old Rosin the Bow.</p> + +<p>The gay round of delights I have traveled,<br> +Nor will I behind leave a woe,<br> +For while my companions are jovial<br> +They'll drink to Old Rosin the Bow.</p> + +<p>This life now is drawn to a closing,<br> +All will at last be so,<br> +Then we'll take a full bumper at parting<br> +To the name of Old Rosin the Bow.</p> + +<p>When I am laid out on the counter,<br> +And the people all anxious to know,<br> +Just raise up the lid of the coffin<br> +And look at Old Rosin the Bow.</p> + +<p>And when through the streets my friends bear me,<br> +And the ladies are filled with deep woe,<br> +They'll <span class="pagenum"><a id="page281" name="page281"></a>(p. 281)</span> come to the doors and the windows<br> +And sigh for Old Rosin the Bow.</p> + +<p>Then get some fine, jovial fellows,<br> +And let them all staggering go;<br> +Then dig a deep hole in the meadow<br> +And in it toss Rosin the Bow.</p> + +<p>Then get a couple of dornicks,<br> +Place one at my head and my toe,<br> +And do not forget to scratch on them,<br> +"Here lies Old Rosin the Bow."</p> + +<p>Then let those same jovial fellows<br> +Surround my lone grave in a row,<br> +While they drink from my favorite bottle<br> +The health of Old Rosin the Bow.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE GREAT ROUND-UP <span class="pagenum"><a id="page282" name="page282"></a>(p. 282)</span></p> + +<p>When I think of the last great round-up<br> +On the eve of eternity's dawn,<br> +I think of the past of the cowboys<br> +Who have been with us here and are gone.<br> +And I wonder if any will greet me<br> +On the sands of the evergreen shore<br> +With a hearty, "God bless you, old fellow,"<br> +That I've met with so often before.</p> + +<p>I think of the big-hearted fellows<br> +Who will divide with you blanket and bread,<br> +With a piece of stray beef well roasted,<br> +And charge for it never a red.<br> +I often look upward and wonder<br> +If the green fields will seem half so fair,<br> +If any the wrong trail have taken<br> +And fail to "be in" over there.</p> + +<p>For the trail that leads down to perdition<br> +Is paved all the way with good deeds,<br> +But in the great round-up of ages,<br> +Dear boys, this won't answer your needs.<br> +But the way to the green pastures, though narrow,<br> +Leads straight to the home in the sky,<br> +And Jesus will give you the passports<br> +To the land of the sweet by and by.</p> + +<p>For <span class="pagenum"><a id="page283" name="page283"></a>(p. 283)</span> the Savior has taken the contract<br> +To deliver all those who believe,<br> +At the headquarters ranch of his Father,<br> +In the great range where none can deceive.<br> +The Inspector will stand at the gateway<br> +And the herd, one by one, will go by,—<br> +The round-up by the angels in judgment<br> +Must pass 'neath his all-seeing eye.</p> + +<p>No maverick or slick will be tallied<br> +In the great book of life in his home,<br> +For he knows all the brands and the earmarks<br> +That down through the ages have come.<br> +But, along with the tailings and sleepers,<br> +The strays must turn from the gate;<br> +No road brand to gain them admission,<br> +But the awful sad cry "too late."</p> + +<p>Yet I trust in the last great round-up<br> +When the rider shall cut the big herd,<br> +That the cowboys shall be represented<br> +In the earmark and brand of the Lord,<br> +To be shipped to the bright, mystic regions<br> +Over there in green pastures to lie,<br> +And led by the crystal still waters<br> +In that home of the sweet by and by.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE JOLLY COWBOY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page284" name="page284"></a>(p. 284)</span></p> + +<p>My lover, he is a cowboy, he's brave and kind and true,<br> +He rides a Spanish pony, he throws a lasso, too;<br> +And when he comes to see me our vows we do redeem,<br> +He throws his arms around me and thus begins to sing:</p> + + <p class="add2em">"Ho, I'm a jolly cowboy, from Texas now I hail,<br> + Give me my quirt and pony, I'm ready for the trail;<br> + I love the rolling prairies, they're free from care and strife,<br> + Behind a herd of longhorns I'll journey all my life.</p> + +<p>"When early dawn is breaking and we are far away,<br> +We fall into our saddles, we round-up all the day;<br> +We rope, we brand, we ear-mark, I tell you we are smart,<br> +And when the herd is ready, for Kansas then we start.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am a Texas cowboy, lighthearted, brave, and free,<br> +To roam the wide, wide prairie, 'tis always joy to me.<br> +My <span class="pagenum"><a id="page285" name="page285"></a>(p. 285)</span> trusty little pony is my companion true,<br> +O'er creeks and hills and rivers he's sure to pull me through.</p> + +<p>"When threatening clouds do gather and herded lightnings flash,<br> +And heavy rain drops splatter, and rolling thunders crash;<br> +What keeps the herd from running, stampeding far and wide?<br> +The cowboy's long, low whistle and singing by their side.</p> + +<p>"When in Kansas City, our boss he pays us up,<br> +We loaf around the city and take a parting cup;<br> +We bid farewell to city life, from noisy crowds we come,<br> +And back to dear old Texas, the cowboy's native home."</p> + +<p>Oh, he is coming back to marry the only girl he loves,<br> +He says I am his darling, I am his own true love;<br> +Some day we two will marry and then no more he'll roam,<br> +But settle down with Mary in a cozy little home.</p> + + <p class="add2em">"Ho, I'm a jolly cowboy, from Texas now I hail,<br> + Give me my bond to Mary, I'll quit the Lone Star trail.<br> + I <span class="pagenum"><a id="page286" name="page286"></a>(p. 286)</span> love the rolling prairies, they're free from care and strife,<br> + But I'll quit the herd of longhorns for the sake of my little wife."</p> + + +<h4>The Texas Cowboy <span class="pagenum"><a id="page287" name="page287"></a>(p. 287)</span><br> +Mrs. Robert Thomson</h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/texascowboy.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/texascowboy.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/texascowboy.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/texascowboy_full.png"> +<img src="images/texascowboy_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="The Texas Cowboy"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE CONVICT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page290" name="page290"></a>(p. 290)</span></p> + +<p>When slumbering In my convict cell my childhood days I see,<br> +When I was mother's little child and knelt at mother's knee.<br> +There my life was peace, I know, I knew no sorrow or pain.<br> +Mother dear never did think, I know, I would wear a felon's chain.</p> + + <p class="add1em">Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink,<br> + Ah, don't you hear the clinking of my chain?<br> + Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink,<br> + Ah, don't you hear the clinking of my chain?</p> + +<p>When I had grown to manhood and evil paths I trod,<br> +I learned to scorn my fellow-man and even curse my God;<br> +And in the evil course I ran for a great length of time<br> +Till at last I ran too long and was condemned for a felon's crime.</p> + +<p>My prison life will soon be o'er, my life will soon be gone,—<br> +May <span class="pagenum"><a id="page291" name="page291"></a>(p. 291)</span> the angels waft it heavenward to a bright and happy home.<br> +I'll be at rest, sweet, sweet rest, there is rest in the heavenly home;<br> +I'll be at rest, sweet, sweet rest, there is rest in the heavenly home.</p> + + <p class="add1em">Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink,<br> + Ah, don't you hear the clinking of my chain?<br> + Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink,<br> + Ah, don't you hear the clinking of my chain?</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">JACK O' DIAMONDS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page292" name="page292"></a>(p. 292)</span></p> + +<p>O Mollie, O Mollie, it is for your sake alone<br> +That I leave my old parents, my house and my home,<br> +That I leave my old parents, you caused me to roam,—<br> +I am a rabble soldier and Dixie is my home.</p> + + <p class="add1em">Jack o' diamonds, Jack o' diamonds,<br> + I know you of old,<br> + You've robbed my poor pockets<br> + Of silver and gold.<br> + Whiskey, you villain,<br> + You've been my downfall,<br> + You've kicked me, you've cuffed me,<br> + But I love you for all.</p> + +<p>My foot's in my stirrup, my bridle's in my hand,<br> +I'm going to leave sweet Mollie, the fairest in the land.<br> +Her parents don't like me, they say I'm too poor,<br> +They say I'm unworthy to enter her door.</p> + +<p>They say I drink whiskey; my money is my own,<br> +And them that don't like me can leave me alone.<br> +I'll eat when I'm hungry, I'll drink when I'm dry,<br> +And when I get thirsty I'll lay down and cry.</p> + + <p class="add1em">It's <span class="pagenum"><a id="page293" name="page293"></a>(p. 293)</span> beefsteak when I'm hungry,<br> + And whiskey when I'm dry,<br> + Greenbacks when I'm hard up,<br> + And heaven when I die.<br> + Rye whiskey, rye whiskey,<br> + Rye whiskey I cry,<br> + If I don't get rye whiskey,<br> + I surely will die.<br> + <span class="add1em">O Baby, O Baby, I've told you before,</span><br> + <span class="add1em">Do make me a pallet, I'll lie on the floor.</span></p> + +<p>I will build me a big castle on yonder mountain high,<br> +Where my true love can see me when she comes riding by,<br> +Where my true love can see me and help me to mourn,—<br> +I am a rabble soldier and Dixie is my home.</p> + +<p>I'll get up in my saddle, my quirt I'll take in hand,<br> +I'll think of you, Mollie, when in some far distant land,<br> +I'll think of you, Mollie, you caused me to roam,—<br> +I am a rabble soldier and Dixie is my home.</p> + + <p class="add1em">If the ocean was whiskey,<br> + And I was a duck,<br> + I'd dive to the bottom<br> + To get one sweet sup;<br> + But the ocean ain't whiskey,<br> + And I ain't a duck,<br> + So <span class="pagenum"><a id="page294" name="page294"></a>(p. 294)</span> I'll play Jack o' diamonds<br> + And then we'll get drunk.<br> + <span class="add1em">O Baby, O Baby, I've told you before,</span><br> + <span class="add1em">Do make me a pallet, I'll lie on the floor.</span></p> + +<p>I've rambled and trambled this wide world around,<br> +But it's for the rabble army, dear Mollie, I'm bound,<br> +It is to the rabble army, dear Mollie, I roam,—<br> +I am a rabble soldier and Dixie is my home.</p> + +<p>I have rambled and gambled all my money away,<br> +But it's with the rabble army, O Mollie, I must stay,<br> +It is with the rabble army, O Mollie I must roam,—<br> +I am a rabble soldier and Dixie is my home.</p> + + <p class="add1em">Jack o' diamonds, Jack o' diamonds,<br> + I know you of old,<br> + You've robbed my poor pockets<br> + Of silver and gold.<br> + Rye whiskey, rye whiskey,<br> + Rye whiskey I cry,<br> + If you don't give me rye whiskey<br> + I'll lie down and die.<br> + <span class="add1em">O Baby, O Baby, I've told you before,</span><br> + <span class="add1em">Do make me a pallet, I'll lie on the floor.</span></p> + + +<h4>Jack o' Diamonds <span class="pagenum"><a id="page295" name="page295"></a>(p. 295)</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="music/jackodiamonds.midi">Listen</a> | <a href="finale/jackodiamonds.mus">Download Finale</a> +| <a href="pdf/jackodiamonds.pdf">View/Download PDF</a></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/jackodiamonds_full.png"> +<img src="images/jackodiamonds_tb.png" width="500" height="646" alt="Jack O Diamonds"></a> +</div> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE COWBOY'S MEDITATION <span class="pagenum"><a id="page297" name="page297"></a>(p. 297)</span></p> + +<p>At midnight when the cattle are sleeping<br> +On my saddle I pillow my head,<br> +And up at the heavens lie peeping<br> +From out of my cold, grassy bed,—<br> +Often and often I wondered<br> +At night when lying alone<br> +If every bright star up yonder<br> +Is a big peopled world like our own.</p> + +<p>Are they worlds with their ranges and ranches?<br> +Do they ring with rough rider refrains?<br> +Do the cowboys scrap there with Comanches<br> +And other Red Men of the plains?<br> +Are the hills covered over with cattle<br> +In those mystic worlds far, far away?<br> +Do the ranch-houses ring with the prattle<br> +Of sweet little children at play?</p> + +<p>At night in the bright stars up yonder<br> +Do the cowboys lie down to their rest?<br> +Do they gaze at this old world and wonder<br> +If rough riders dash over its breast?<br> +Do they list to the wolves in the canyons?<br> +Do they watch the night owl in its flight,<br> +With their horse their only companion<br> +While guarding the herd through the night?</p> + +<p>Sometimes <span class="pagenum"><a id="page298" name="page298"></a>(p. 298)</span> when a bright star is twinkling<br> +Like a diamond set in the sky,<br> +I find myself lying and thinking,<br> +It may be God's heaven is nigh.<br> +I wonder if there I shall meet her,<br> +My mother whom God took away;<br> +If in the star-heavens I'll greet her<br> +At the round-up that's on the last day.</p> + +<p>In the east the great daylight is breaking<br> +And into my saddle I spring;<br> +The cattle from sleep are awakening,<br> +The heaven-thoughts from me take wing,<br> +The eyes of my bronco are flashing,<br> +Impatient he pulls at the reins,<br> +And off round the herd I go dashing,<br> +A reckless cowboy of the plains.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">BILLY VENERO <span class="pagenum"><a id="page299" name="page299"></a>(p. 299)</span></p> + +<p>Billy Venero heard them say,<br> +In an Arizona town one day.<br> +That a band of Apache Indians were upon the trail of death;<br> +Heard them tell of murder done,<br> +Three men killed at Rocky Run,<br> +"They're in danger at the cow-ranch," said Venero, under breath.</p> + +<p>Cow-Ranch, forty miles away,<br> +Was a little place that lay<br> +In a deep and shady valley of the mighty wilderness;<br> +Half a score of homes were there,<br> +And in one a maiden fair<br> +Held the heart of Billy Venero, Billy Venero's little Bess.</p> + +<p>So no wonder he grew pale<br> +When he heard the cowboy's tale<br> +Of the men that he'd seen murdered the day before at Rocky Run.<br> +"Sure as there's a God above,<br> +I will save the girl I love;<br> +By my love for little Bessie I will see that something's done."</p> + +<p>Not <span class="pagenum"><a id="page300" name="page300"></a>(p. 300)</span> a moment he delayed<br> +When his brave resolve was made.<br> +"Why man," his comrades told him when they heard of his daring plan,<br> +"You are riding straight to death."<br> +But he answered, "Save your breath;<br> +I may never reach the cow-ranch but I'll do the best I can."</p> + +<p>As he crossed the alkali<br> +All his thoughts flew on ahead<br> +To the little band at cow-ranch thinking not of danger near;<br> +With his quirt's unceasing whirl<br> +And the jingle of his spurs<br> +Little brown Chapo bore the cowboy o'er the far away frontier.</p> + +<p>Lower and lower sank the sun;<br> +He drew rein at Rocky Run;<br> +"Here those men met death, my Chapo," and he stroked his glossy mane;<br> +"So shall those we go to warn<br> +Ere the coming of the morn<br> +If we fail,—God help my Bessie," and he started on again.</p> + +<p>Sharp and clear a rifle shot<br> +Woke the echoes of the spot.<br> +"I <span class="pagenum"><a id="page301" name="page301"></a>(p. 301)</span> am wounded," cried Venero, as he swayed from side to side;<br> +"While there's life there's always hope;<br> +Slowly onward I will lope,—<br> +If I fail to reach the cow-ranch, Bessie Lee shall know I tried.</p> + +<p>"I will save her yet," he cried,<br> +"Bessie Lee shall know I tried,"<br> +And for her sake then he halted in the shadow of a hill;<br> +From his chapareras he took<br> +With weak hands a little book;<br> +Tore a blank leaf from its pages saying, "This shall be my will."</p> + +<p>From a limb a pen he broke,<br> +And he dipped his pen of oak<br> +In the warm blood that was spurting from a wound above his heart.<br> +"Rouse," he wrote before too late;<br> +"Apache warriors lie in wait.<br> +Good-bye, Bess, God bless you darling," and he felt the cold tears start.</p> + +<p>Then he made his message fast,<br> +Love's first message and its last,<br> +To the saddle horn he tied it and his lips were white with pain,<br> +"Take this message, if not me,<br> +Straight <span class="pagenum"><a id="page302" name="page302"></a>(p. 302)</span> to little Bessie Lee;"<br> +Then he tied himself to the saddle, and he gave his horse the rein.</p> + +<p>Just at dusk a horse of brown<br> +Wet with sweat came panting down<br> +The little lane at the cow-ranch, stopped in front of Bessie's door;<br> +But the cowboy was asleep,<br> +And his slumbers were so deep,<br> +Little Bess could never wake him though she tried for evermore.</p> + +<p>You have heard the story told<br> +By the young and by the old,<br> +Away down yonder at the cow-ranch the night the Apaches came;<br> +Of that sharp and bloody fight,<br> +How the chief fell in the fight<br> +And the panic-stricken warriors when they heard Venero's name.</p> + +<p>And the heavens and earth between<br> +Keep a little flower so green<br> +That little Bess had planted ere they laid her by his side.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">DOGIE SONG <span class="pagenum"><a id="page303" name="page303"></a>(p. 303)</span></p> + +<p>The cow-bosses are good-hearted chunks,<br> +Some short, some heavy, more long;<br> +But don't matter what he looks like,<br> +They all sing the same old song.<br> +On the plains, in the mountains, in the valleys,<br> +In the south where the days are long,<br> +The bosses are different fellows;<br> +Still they sing the same old song.</p> + + <p class="add1em">"Sift along, boys, don't ride so slow;<br> + Haven't got much time but a long round to go.<br> + Quirt him in the shoulders and rake him down the hip;<br> + I've cut you toppy mounts, boys, now pair off and rip.<br> + Bunch the herd at the old meet,<br> + Then beat 'em on the tail;<br> + Whip 'em up and down the sides<br> + And hit the shortest trail."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE BOOZER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page304" name="page304"></a>(p. 304)</span></p> + +<p>I'm a howler from the prairies of the West.<br> +If you want to die with terror, look at me.<br> +I'm chain-lightning—if I ain't, may I be blessed.<br> +I'm the snorter of the boundless prairie.</p> + + <p class="add2em">He's a killer and a hater!<br> + He's the great annihilator!<br> + He's a terror of the boundless prairie.</p> + +<p>I'm the snoozer from the upper trail!<br> +I'm the reveler in murder and in gore!<br> +I can bust more Pullman coaches on the rail<br> +Than anyone who's worked the job before.</p> + + <p class="add2em">He's a snorter and a snoozer.<br> + He's the great trunk line abuser.<br> + He's the man who puts the sleeper on the rail.</p> + +<p>I'm the double-jawed hyena from the East.<br> +I'm the blazing, bloody blizzard of the States.<br> +I'm the celebrated slugger; I'm the Beast.<br> +I can snatch a man bald-headed while he waits.</p> + + <p class="add2em">He's a double-jawed hyena!<br> + He's the villain of the scena!<br> + He can snatch a man bald-headed while he waits.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">DRINKING SONG <span class="pagenum"><a id="page305" name="page305"></a>(p. 305)</span></p> + +<p>Drink that rot gut, drink that rot gut,<br> +Drink that red eye, boys;<br> +It don't make a damn wherever we land,<br> +We hit her up for joy.</p> + +<p>We've lived in the saddle and ridden trail,<br> +Drink old Jordan, boys,<br> +We'll go whooping and yelling, we'll all go a-helling;<br> +Drink her to our joy.</p> + +<p>Whoop-ee! drink that rot gut, drink that red nose,<br> +Whenever you get to town;<br> +Drink it straight and swig it mighty,<br> +Till the world goes round and round!</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">A FRAGMENT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page306" name="page306"></a>(p. 306)</span></p> + +<p>I'd rather hear a rattler rattle,<br> +I'd rather buck stampeding cattle,<br> +I'd rather go to a greaser battle,<br> +Than—<br> +Than to—<br> +Than to fight—<br> +Than to fight the bloody In-ji-ans.</p> + +<p>I'd rather eat a pan of dope,<br> +I'd rather ride without a rope,<br> +I'd rather from this country lope,<br> +Than—<br> +Than to—<br> +Than to fight—<br> +Than to fight the bloody In-ji-ans.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">A MAN NAMED HODS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page307" name="page307"></a>(p. 307)</span></p> + +<p>Come, all you old cowpunchers, a story I will tell,<br> +And if you'll all be quiet, I sure will sing it well;<br> +And if you boys don't like it, you sure can go to hell.</p> + +<p>Back in the day when I was young, I knew a man named Hods;<br> +He wasn't fit fer nothin' 'cep turnin' up the clods.</p> + +<p>But he came west in fifty-three, behind a pair of mules,<br> +And 'twas hard to tell between the three which was the biggest fools.</p> + +<p>Up on the plains old Hods he got and there his trouble began.<br> +Oh, he sure did get in trouble,—and old Hodsie wasn't no man.</p> + +<p>He met a bunch of Indian bucks led by Geronimo,<br> +And what them Indians did to him, well, shorely I don't know.</p> + +<p>But they lifted off old Hodsie's skelp and left him out to die,<br> +And if it hadn't been for me, he'd been in the sweet by and by.</p> + +<p>But <span class="pagenum"><a id="page308" name="page308"></a>(p. 308)</span> I packed him back to Santa Fé and there I found his mules,<br> +For them dad-blamed two critters had got the Indians fooled.</p> + +<p>I don't know how they done it, but they shore did get away,<br> +And them two mules is livin' up to this very day.</p> + +<p>Old Hodsie's feet got toughened up, he got to be a sport,<br> +He opened up a gamblin' house and a place of low resort;</p> + +<p>He got the prettiest dancing girls that ever could be found,—<br> +Them girls' feet was like rubber balls and they never staid on the ground.</p> + +<p>And then thar came Billy the Kid, he envied Hodsie's wealth,<br> +He told old Hods to leave the town, 'twould be better for his health;<br> +Old Hodsie took the hint and got, but he carried all his wealth.</p> + +<p>And he went back to Noo York State with lots of dinero,<br> +And now they say he's senator, but of that I shore don't know.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">A FRAGMENT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page309" name="page309"></a>(p. 309)</span></p> + +<p>I am fur from my sweetheart<br> +And she is fur from me,<br> +And when I'll see my sweetheart<br> +I can't tell when 'twill be.</p> + +<p>But I love her just the same,<br> +No matter where I roam;<br> +And that there girl will wait fur me<br> +Whenever I come home.</p> + +<p>I've roamed the Texas prairies,<br> +I've followed the cattle trail,<br> +I've rid a pitching pony<br> +Till the hair came off his tail.</p> + +<p>I've been to cowboy dances,<br> +I've kissed the Texas girls,<br> +But they ain't none what can compare<br> +With my own sweetheart's curls.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE LONE STAR TRAIL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page310" name="page310"></a>(p. 310)</span></p> + +<p>I'm a rowdy cowboy just off the stormy plains,<br> +My trade is girting saddles and pulling bridle reins.<br> +Oh, I can tip the lasso, it is with graceful ease;<br> +I rope a streak of lightning, and ride it where I please.<br> +My bosses they all like me, they say I am hard to beat;<br> +I give them the bold standoff, you bet I have got the cheek.<br> +I always work for wages, my pay I get in gold;<br> +I am bound to follow the longhorn steer until I am too old.</p> + + <p class="add2em">Ci yi yip yip yip pe ya.</p> + +<p>I am a Texas cowboy and I do ride the range;<br> +My trade is cinches and saddles and ropes and bridle reins;<br> +With Stetson hat and jingling spurs and leather up to the knees,<br> +Gray backs as big as chili beans and fighting like hell with fleas.<br> +And if I had a little stake, I soon would married be,<br> +But another week and I must go, the boss said so to-day.<br> +My <span class="pagenum"><a id="page311" name="page311"></a>(p. 311)</span> girl must cheer up courage and choose some other one,<br> +For I am bound to follow the Lone Star Trail until my race is run.</p> + + <p class="add2em">Ci yi yip yip yip pe ya.</p> + +<p>It almost breaks my heart for to have to go away,<br> +And leave my own little darling, my sweetheart so far away.<br> +But when I'm out on the Lone Star Trail often I'll think of thee,<br> +Of my own dear girl, the darling one, the one I would like to see.<br> +And when I get to a shipping point, I'll get on a little spree<br> +To drive away the sorrow for the girl that once loved me.<br> +And though red licker stirs us up we're bound to have our fun,<br> +And I intend to follow the Lone Star Trail until my race is run.</p> + + <p class="add2em">Ci yi yip yip yip pe ya.</p> + +<p>I went up the Lone Star Trail in eighteen eighty-three;<br> +I fell in love with a pretty miss and she in love with me.<br> +"When you get to Kansas write and let me know;<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page312" name="page312"></a>(p. 312)</span> if you get in trouble, your bail I'll come and go."<br> +When I got up in Kansas, I had a pleasant dream;<br> +I dreamed I was down on Trinity, down on that pleasant stream;<br> +I dreampt my true love right beside me, she come to go my bail;<br> +I woke up broken hearted with a yearling by the tail.</p> + + <p class="add2em">Ci yi yip yip yip pe ya.</p> + +<p>In came my jailer about nine o'clock,<br> +A bunch of keys was in his hand, my cell door to unlock,<br> +Saying, "Cheer up, my prisoner, I heard some voice say<br> +You're bound to hear your sentence some time to-day."<br> +In came my mother about ten o'clock,<br> +Saying, "O my loving Johnny, what sentence have you got?"<br> +"The jury found me guilty and the judge a-standin' by<br> +Has sent me down to Huntsville to lock me up and die."</p> + + <p class="add2em">Ci yi yip yip yip pe ya.</p> + +<p>Down come the jailer, just about eleven o'clock,<br> +With a bunch of keys all in his hand the cell doors to unlock,<br> +Saying, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page313" name="page313"></a>(p. 313)</span> "Cheer up, my prisoner, I heard the jury say<br> +Just ten long years in Huntsville you're bound to go and stay."<br> +Down come my sweetheart, ten dollars in her hand,<br> +Saying, "Give this to my cowboy, 'tis all that I command;<br> +O give this to my cowboy and think of olden times,<br> +Think of the darling that he has left behind."</p> + + <p class="add2em">Ci yi yip yip yip pe ya.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">WAY DOWN IN MEXICO <span class="pagenum"><a id="page314" name="page314"></a>(p. 314)</span></p> + +<p>O boys, we're goin' far to-night,<br> +Yeo-ho, yeo-ho!<br> +We'll take the greasers now in hand<br> +And drive 'em in the Rio Grande,<br> +Way down in Mexico.</p> + +<p>We'll hang old Santa Anna soon,<br> +Yeo-ho, yeo-ho!<br> +And all the greaser soldiers, too,<br> +To the chune of Yankee Doodle Doo,<br> +Way down in Mexico.</p> + +<p>We'll scatter 'em like flocks of sheep,<br> +Yeo-ho, yeo-ho!<br> +We'll mow 'em down with rifle ball<br> +And plant our flag right on their wall,<br> +Way down in Mexico.</p> + +<p>Old Rough and Ready, he's a trump,<br> +Yeo-ho, yeo-ho!<br> +He'll wipe old Santa Anna out<br> +And put the greasers all to rout,<br> +Way down in Mexico.</p> + +<p>Then we'll march back by and by,<br> +Yeo-ho, yeo-ho!<br> +And kiss the gals we left to home<br> +And never more we'll go and roam,<br> +Way down in Mexico.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">RATTLESNAKE—A RANCH HAYING SONG <span class="pagenum"><a id="page315" name="page315"></a>(p. 315)</span></p> + +<p>A nice young ma-wa-wan<br> +Lived on a hi-wi-will;<br> +A nice young ma-wa-wan,<br> +For I knew him we-we-well.</p> + + <p class="add2em">To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree!</p> + +<p>This nice young ma-wa-wan<br> +Went out to mo-wo-wow<br> +To see if he-we-we<br> +Could make a sho-wo-wow.</p> + + <p class="add2em">To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree!</p> + +<p>He scarcely mo-wo-wowed<br> +Half round the fie-we-wield<br> +Till up jumped—come a rattle, come a sna-wa-wake,<br> +And bit him on the he-we-weel.</p> + + <p class="add2em">To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree!</p> + +<p>He laid right dow-we-wown<br> +Upon the gro-wo-wound<br> +And shut his ey-wy-wyes<br> +And looked all aro-wo-wound.</p> + + <p class="add2em">To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree!</p> + +<p>"O <span class="pagenum"><a id="page316" name="page316"></a>(p. 316)</span> pappy da-wa-wad,<br> +Go tell my ga-wa-wal<br> +That I'm a-goin' ter di-wi-wie,<br> +For I know I sha-wa-wall."</p> + + <p class="add2em">To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree!</p> + +<p>"O pappy da-wa-wad,<br> +Go spread the ne-wu-wus;<br> +And here come Sa-wa-wall<br> +Without her sho-woo-woos."</p> + + <p class="add2em">To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree!</p> + +<p>"O John, O Joh-wa-wahn,<br> +Why did you go-wo-wo<br> +Way down in the mea-we-we-dow<br> +So far to mo-wo-wow?"</p> + + <p class="add2em">To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree!</p> + +<p>"O Sal, O Sa-wa-wall,<br> +Why don't you kno-wo-wow<br> +When the grass gits ri-wi-wipe,<br> +It must be mo-wo-woed?"</p> + + <p class="add2em">To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree!</p> + +<p>Come all young gir-wi-wirls<br> +And shed a tea-we-wear<br> +For <span class="pagenum"><a id="page317" name="page317"></a>(p. 317)</span> this young ma-wa-wan<br> +That died right he-we-were.</p> + + <p class="add2em">To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree!</p> + +<p>Come all young me-we-wen<br> +And warning ta-wa-wake,<br> +And don't get bi-wi-wit<br> +By a rattle sna-wa-wake.</p> + + <p class="add2em">To my rattle, to my roo-rah-ree!</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE RAILROAD CORRAL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page318" name="page318"></a>(p. 318)</span></p> + +<p>Oh we're up in the morning ere breaking of day,<br> +The chuck wagon's busy, the flapjacks in play;<br> +The herd is astir o'er hillside and vale,<br> +With the night riders rounding them into the trail.<br> + <span class="add1em">Oh, come take up your cinches, come shake out your reins;</span><br> + <span class="add1em">Come wake your old broncho and break for the plains;</span><br> + <span class="add1em">Come roust out your steers from the long chaparral,</span><br> + <span class="add1em">For the outfit is off to the railroad corral.</span></p> + +<p>The sun circles upward; the steers as they plod<br> +Are pounding to powder the hot prairie sod;<br> +And it seems as the dust makes you dizzy and sick<br> +That we'll never reach noon and the cool, shady creek.<br> + <span class="add1em">But tie up your kerchief and ply up your nag;</span><br> + <span class="add1em">Come dry up your grumbles and try not to lag;</span><br> + <span class="add1em">Come with your steers from the long chaparral,</span><br> + <span class="add1em">For we're far on the road to the railroad corral.</span></p> + +<p>The afternoon shadows are starting to lean,<br> +When the chuck wagon sticks in the marshy ravine;<br> +The herd scatters farther than vision can look,<br> +For <span class="pagenum"><a id="page319" name="page319"></a>(p. 319)</span> you can bet all true punchers will help out the cook.<br> + <span class="add1em">Come shake out your rawhide and snake it up fair;</span><br> + <span class="add1em">Come break your old broncho to take in his share;</span><br> + <span class="add1em">Come from your steers in the long chaparral,</span><br> + <span class="add1em">For 'tis all in the drive to the railroad corral.</span></p> + +<p>But the longest of days must reach evening at last,<br> +The hills all climbed, the creeks all past;<br> +The tired herd droops in the yellowing light;<br> +Let them loaf if they will, for the railroad's in sight<br> + <span class="add1em">So flap up your holster and snap up your belt,</span><br> + <span class="add1em">And strap up your saddle whose lap you have felt;</span><br> + <span class="add1em">Good-bye to the steers from the long chaparral,</span><br> + <span class="add1em">For there's a town that's a trunk by the railroad corral.</span></p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE SONG OF THE "METIS" TRAPPER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page320" name="page320"></a>(p. 320)</span><br> + +<span class="add2em">By Rolette</span></p> + +<p>Hurrah for the great white way!<br> + <span class="add1em">Hurrah for the dog and sledge!</span><br> +As we snow-shoe along,<br> + <span class="add1em">We give them a song,</span><br> +With a snap of the whip and an urgent "mush on,"—<br> + <span class="add1em">Hurrah for the great white way! Hurrah!</span></p> + +<p>Hurrah for the snow and the ice!<br> + <span class="add1em">As we follow the trail,</span><br> +We call to the dogs with whistle and song,<br> + <span class="add1em">And reply to their talk</span><br> +With only "mush on, mush on"!<br> + <span class="add1em">Hurrah for the snow and the ice! Hurrah!</span></p> + +<p>Hurrah for the gun and the trap,—<br> + <span class="add1em">As we follow the lines</span><br> +By the rays of the mystic light<br> + <span class="add1em">That flames in the north with banners so bright,</span><br> +As we list to its swish, swish, swish, through the air all night,<br> + <span class="add1em">Hurrah for the gun and the trap! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!</span></p> + +<p>Hurrah <span class="pagenum"><a id="page321" name="page321"></a>(p. 321)</span> for the fire and cold!<br> + <span class="add1em">As we lie in the robes all night.</span><br> +And list to the howl of the wolf;<br> + <span class="add1em">For we emptied the pot of the tea so hot,</span><br> +And a king on his throne might envy our lot,—<br> + <span class="add1em">Hurrah for the fire and cold! Hurrah!</span></p> + +<p>Hurrah for our black-haired girls,<br> + <span class="add1em">Who brave the storms of the mountain heights</span><br> +And follow us on the great white way;<br> + <span class="add1em">For their eyes so bright light the way all right</span><br> +And guide us to shelter and warmth each night.<br> + <span class="add1em">Hurrah for our black-haired girls! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!</span></p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE CAMP FIRE HAS GONE OUT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page322" name="page322"></a>(p. 322)</span></p> + +<p>Through progress of the railroads our occupation's gone;<br> +So we will put ideas into words, our words into a song.<br> +First comes the cowboy, he is pointed for the west;<br> +Of all the pioneers I claim the cowboys are the best;<br> +You will miss him on the round-up, it's gone, his merry shout,—<br> +The cowboy has left the country and the campfire has gone out.</p> + +<p>There is the freighters, our companions, you've got to leave this land,<br> +Can't drag your loads for nothing through the gumbo and the sand.<br> +The railroads are bound to beat you when you do your level best;<br> +So give it up to the grangers and strike out for the west.<br> +Bid them all adieu and give the merry shout,—<br> +The cowboy has left the country and the campfire has gone out.</p> + +<p>When I think of those good old days, my eyes with tears do fill;<br> +When <span class="pagenum"><a id="page323" name="page323"></a>(p. 323)</span> I think of the tin can by the fire and the cayote on the hill.<br> +I'll tell you, boys, in those days old-timers stood a show,—<br> +Our pockets full of money, not a sorrow did we know.<br> +But things have changed now, we are poorly clothed and fed.<br> +Our wagons are all broken and our ponies most all dead.<br> +Soon we will leave this country, you'll hear the angels shout,<br> +"Oh, here they come to Heaven, the campfire has gone out."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">NIGHT-HERDING SONG <span class="pagenum"><a id="page324" name="page324"></a>(p. 324)</span><br> + +<span class="add2em">By Harry Stephens</span></p> + +<p>Oh, slow up, dogies, quit your roving round,<br> +You have wandered and tramped all over the ground;<br> +Oh, graze along, dogies, and feed kinda slow,<br> +And don't forever be on the go,—<br> +Oh, move slow, dogies, move slow.</p> + +<p>Hi-oo, hi-oo, oo-oo.</p> + +<p>I have circle-herded, trail-herded, night-herded, and cross-herded, too,<br> +But to keep you together, that's what I can't do;<br> +My horse is leg weary and I'm awful tired,<br> +But if I let you get away I'm sure to get fired,—<br> +Bunch up, little dogies, bunch up.</p> + +<p>Hi-oo, hi-oo, oo-oo.</p> + +<p>O say, little dogies, when you goin' to lay down<br> +And quit this forever siftin' around?<br> +My limbs are weary, my seat is sore;<br> +Oh, lay down, dogies, like you've laid before,—<br> +Lay down, little dogies, lay down.</p> + +<p>Hi-oo, hi-oo, oo-oo.</p> + +<p>Oh, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page325" name="page325"></a>(p. 325)</span> lay still, dogies, since you have laid down,<br> +Stretch away out on the big open ground;<br> +Snore loud, little dogies, and drown the wild sound<br> +That will all go away when the day rolls round,—<br> +Lay still, little dogies, lay still.</p> + +<p>Hi-oo, hi-oo, oo-oo.<br> +. . . . . .</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">TAIL PIECE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page326" name="page326"></a>(p. 326)</span></p> + +<p>Oh, the cow-puncher loves the whistle of his rope,<br> +As he races over the plains;<br> +And the stage-driver loves the popper of his whip,<br> +And the rattle of his concord chains;<br> +And we'll all pray the Lord that we will be saved,<br> +And we'll keep the golden rule;<br> +But I'd rather be home with the girl I love<br> +Than to monkey with this goddamn'd mule.<br> +. . . . . . . . . . .</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE HABIT<a id="footnotetag5" name="footnotetag5"></a><a href="#footnote5">[5]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page327" name="page327"></a>(p. 327)</span></p> + +<p>I've beat my way wherever any winds have blown,<br> +I've bummed along from Portland down to San Antone,<br> +From Sandy Hook to Frisco, over gulch and hill;<br> +For once you git the habit, why, you can't keep still.</p> + +<p>I settles down quite frequent and I says, says I,<br> +"I'll never wander further till I comes to die."<br> +But the wind it sorta chuckles, "Why, o' course you will,"<br> +And shure enough I does it, cause I can't keep still.</p> + +<p>I've seed a lot o' places where I'd like to stay,<br> +But I gets a feelin' restless and I'm on my way.<br> +I was never meant for settin' on my own door sill,<br> +And once you git the habit, why, you can't keep still.</p> + +<p>I've been in rich men's houses and I've been in jail,<br> +But when it's time for leavin', I jes hits the trail;<br> +I'm a human bird of passage, and the song I trill,<br> +Is, "Once you git the habit, why, you can't keep still."</p> + +<p>The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page328" name="page328"></a>(p. 328)</span> sun is sorta coaxin' and the road is clear<br> +And the wind is singin' ballads that I got to hear.<br> +It ain't no use to argue when you feel the thrill;<br> +For once you git the habit, why, you can't keep still.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">OLD PAINT<a id="footnotetag6" name="footnotetag6"></a><a href="#footnote6">[6]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page329" name="page329"></a>(p. 329)</span></p> + +<p>REFRAIN:<br> +Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne,<br> +Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne,—</p> + +<p>My foot in the stirrup, my pony won't stand;<br> +Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.</p> + +<p>I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne, I'm off for Montan';<br> +Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.</p> + +<p>I'm a ridin' Old Paint, I'm a-leadin' old Fan;<br> +Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.</p> + +<p>With my feet in the stirrups, my bridle in my hand;<br> +Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.</p> + +<p>Old Paint's a good pony, he paces when he can;<br> +Goodbye, little Annie, I'm off for Cheyenne.</p> + +<p>Oh, hitch up your horses and feed 'em some hay,<br> +And seat yourself by me so long as you stay.</p> + +<p>My <span class="pagenum"><a id="page330" name="page330"></a>(p. 330)</span> horses ain't hungry, they'll not eat your hay;<br> +My wagon is loaded and rolling away.</p> + +<p>My foot in my stirrup, my reins in my hand;<br> +Good-morning, young lady, my horses won't stand.</p> + +<p>Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.<br> +Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">DOWN SOUTH ON THE RIO GRANDE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page331" name="page331"></a>(p. 331)</span></p> + +<p>From way down south on the Rio Grande,<br> +Roll on steers for the Post Oak Sand,—<br> +Way down south in Dixie, Oh, boys, Ho.</p> + +<p>You'd laugh fur to see that fellow a-straddle<br> +Of a mustang mare on a raw-hide saddle,—<br> +Way down south in Dixie, Oh, boys, Ho.</p> + +<p>Rich as a king, and he wouldn't be bigger<br> +Fur a pitchin' hoss and a lame old nigger,—<br> +Way down south in Dixie, Oh, boys, Ho.</p> + +<p>Ole Abe kep' gettin' bigger an' bigger,<br> +'Til he bust hisself 'bout a lame old nigger,—<br> +Way down south in Dixie, Oh, boys, Ho.</p> + +<p>Old Jeff swears he'll sew him together<br> +With powder and shot instead of leather,—<br> +Way down south in Dixie, Oh, boys, Ho.</p> + +<p>Kin cuss an' fight an' hold or free 'em,<br> +But I know them mavericks when I see 'em,—<br> +Way down south in Dixie, Oh, boys, Ho.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">SILVER JACK<a id="footnotetag7" name="footnotetag7"></a><a href="#footnote7">[7]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page332" name="page332"></a>(p. 332)</span></p> + +<p>I was on the drive in eighty<br> +Working under Silver Jack,<br> +Which the same is now in Jackson<br> +And ain't soon expected back,<br> +And there was a fellow 'mongst us<br> +By the name of Robert Waite;<br> +Kind of cute and smart and tonguey<br> +Guess he was a graduate.</p> + +<p>He could talk on any subject<br> +From the Bible down to Hoyle,<br> +And his words flowed out so easy,<br> +Just as smooth and slick as oil,<br> +He was what they call a skeptic,<br> +And he loved to sit and weave<br> +Hifalutin' words together<br> +Tellin' what he didn't believe.</p> + +<p>One day we all were sittin' round<br> +Smokin' nigger head tobacco<br> +And hearing Bob expound;<br> +Hell, he said, was all a humbug,<br> +And he made it plain as day<br> +That the Bible was a fable;<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page333" name="page333"></a>(p. 333)</span> we lowed it looked that way.<br> +Miracles and such like<br> +Were too rank for him to stand,<br> +And as for him they called the Savior<br> +He was just a common man.</p> + +<p>"You're a liar," someone shouted,<br> +"And you've got to take it back."<br> +Then everybody started,—<br> +'Twas the words of Silver Jack.<br> +And he cracked his fists together<br> +And he stacked his duds and cried,<br> +"'Twas in that thar religion<br> +That my mother lived and died;<br> +And though I haven't always<br> +Used the Lord exactly right,<br> +Yet when I hear a chump abuse him<br> +He's got to eat his words or fight."</p> + +<p>Now, this Bob he weren't no coward<br> +And he answered bold and free:<br> +"Stack your duds and cut your capers,<br> +For there ain't no flies on me."<br> +And they fit for forty minutes<br> +And the crowd would whoop and cheer<br> +When Jack spit up a tooth or two,<br> +Or when Bobby lost an ear.</p> + +<p>But at last Jack got him under<br> +And he slugged him onct or twict,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page334" name="page334"></a>(p. 334)</span> straightway Bob admitted<br> +The divinity of Christ.<br> +But Jack kept reasoning with him<br> +Till the poor cuss gave a yell<br> +And lowed he'd been mistaken<br> +In his views concerning hell.</p> + +<p>Then the fierce encounter ended<br> +And they riz up from the ground<br> +And someone brought a bottle out<br> +And kindly passed it round.<br> +And we drank to Bob's religion<br> +In a cheerful sort o' way,<br> +But the spread of infidelity<br> +Was checked in camp that day.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE COWBOY'S CHRISTMAS BALL<a id="footnotetag8" name="footnotetag8"></a><a href="#footnote8">[8]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page335" name="page335"></a>(p. 335)</span></p> + +<p>Way out in Western Texas, where the Clear Fork's waters flow,<br> +Where the cattle are a-browzin' and the Spanish ponies grow;<br> +Where the Northers come a-whistlin' from beyond the Neutral Strip;<br> +And the prairie dogs are sneezin', as though they had the grip;<br> +Where the coyotes come a-howlin' round the ranches after dark,<br> +And the mockin' birds are singin' to the lovely medder lark;<br> +Where the 'possum and the badger and the rattlesnakes abound,<br> +And the monstrous stars are winkin' o'er a wilderness profound;<br> +Where lonesome, tawny prairies melt into airy streams,<br> +While <span class="pagenum"><a id="page336" name="page336"></a>(p. 336)</span> the Double Mountains slumber in heavenly kinds of dreams;<br> +Where the antelope is grazin' and the lonely plovers call,—<br> +It was there I attended the Cowboy's Christmas Ball.</p> + +<p>The town was Anson City, old Jones' county seat,<br> +Where they raised Polled Angus cattle and waving whiskered wheat;<br> +Where the air is soft and bammy and dry and full of health,<br> +Where the prairies is explodin' with agricultural wealth;<br> +Where they print the <i>Texas Western</i>, that Hec McCann supplies<br> +With news and yarns and stories, of most amazing size;<br> +Where Frank Smith "pulls the badger" on knowing tenderfeet,<br> +And Democracy's triumphant and mighty hard to beat;<br> +Where lives that good old hunter, John Milsap, from Lamar,<br> +Who used to be the sheriff "back east in Paris, sah"!<br> +'Twas there, I say, at Anson with the lovely Widder Wall,<br> +That I went to that reception, the Cowboy's Christmas Ball.</p> + +<p>The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page337" name="page337"></a>(p. 337)</span> boys had left the ranches and come to town in piles;<br> +The ladies, kinder scatterin', had gathered in for miles.<br> +And yet the place was crowded, as I remember well,<br> +'Twas gave on this occasion at the Morning Star Hotel.<br> +The music was a fiddle and a lively tambourine,<br> +And a viol came imported, by the stage from Abilene.<br> +The room was togged out gorgeous—with mistletoe and shawls,<br> +And the candles flickered festious, around the airy walls.<br> +The wimmen folks looked lovely—the boys looked kinder treed,<br> +Till the leader commenced yelling, "Whoa, fellers, let's stampede,"<br> +And the music started sighing and a-wailing through the hall<br> +As a kind of introduction to the Cowboy's Christmas Ball.</p> + +<p>The leader was a feller that came from Swenson's ranch,—<br> +They called him Windy Billy from Little Deadman's Branch.<br> +His rig was kinder keerless,—big spurs and high heeled boots;<br> +He had the reputation that comes when fellers shoots.<br> +His <span class="pagenum"><a id="page338" name="page338"></a>(p. 338)</span> voice was like the bugle upon the mountain height;<br> +His feet were animated, and a mighty movin' sight,<br> +When he commenced to holler, "Now fellers, shake your pen!<br> +Lock horns ter all them heifers and rustle them like men;<br> +Saloot yer lovely critters; neow swing and let 'em go;<br> +Climb the grapevine round 'em; neow all hands do-ce-do!<br> +You maverick, jine the round-up,—jes skip the waterfall,"<br> +Huh! hit was getting active, the Cowboy's Christmas Ball.</p> + +<p>The boys was tolerable skittish, the ladies powerful neat,<br> +That old bass viol's music just got there with both feet!<br> +That wailin', frisky fiddle, I never shall forget;<br> +And Windy kept a-singin'—I think I hear him yet—<br> +"Oh, X's, chase yer squirrels, and cut 'em to our side;<br> +Spur Treadwell to the center, with Cross P Charley's bride,<br> +Doc Hollis down the center, and twine the ladies' chain,<br> +Van Andrews, pen the fillies in big T Diamond's train.<br> +All <span class="pagenum"><a id="page339" name="page339"></a>(p. 339)</span> pull your freight together, neow swallow fork and change;<br> +Big Boston, lead the trail herd through little Pitchfork's range.<br> +Purr round yer gentle pussies, neow rope and balance all!"<br> +Huh! Hit were gettin' active—the Cowboy's Christmas Ball.</p> + +<p>The dust riz fast and furious; we all jes galloped round,<br> +Till the scenery got so giddy that T Bar Dick was downed.<br> +We buckled to our partners and told 'em to hold on,<br> +Then shook our hoofs like lightning until the early dawn.<br> +Don't tell me 'bout cotillions, or germans. No sir-ee!<br> +That whirl at Anson City jes takes the cake with me.<br> +I'm sick of lazy shufflin's, of them I've had my fill,<br> +Give me a frontier break-down backed up by Windy Bill.<br> +McAllister ain't nowhere, when Windy leads the show;<br> +I've seen 'em both in harness and so I ought ter know.<br> +Oh, Bill, I shan't forget yer, and I oftentimes recall<br> +That lively gaited sworray—the Cowboy's Christmas Ball.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">PINTO <span class="pagenum"><a id="page340" name="page340"></a>(p. 340)</span></p> + +<p>I am a vaquero by trade;<br> +To handle my rope I'm not afraid.<br> +I lass' an <i>otero</i> by the two horns<br> +Throw down the biggest that ever was born.<br> +Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Pinto, whoa!</p> + +<p>My name to you I will not tell;<br> +For what's the use, you know me so well.<br> +The girls all love me, and cry<br> +When I leave them to join the rodero.<br> +Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Pinto, whoa!</p> + +<p>I am a vaquero, and here I reside;<br> +Show me the broncho I cannot ride.<br> +They say old Pinto with one split ear<br> +Is the hardest jumping broncho on the rodero.<br> +Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Pinto, whoa!</p> + +<p>There strayed to our camp an iron gray colt;<br> +The boys were all fraid him so on him I bolt.<br> +You bet I stayed with him till cheer after cheer,—<br> +"He's the broncho twister that's on the rodero."<br> +Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Pinto, whoa!</p> + +<p>My <span class="pagenum"><a id="page341" name="page341"></a>(p. 341)</span> story is ended, old Pinto is dead;<br> +I'm going down Laredo and paint the town red.<br> +I'm going up to Laredo and set up the beer<br> +To all the cowboys that's on the rodero.<br> +Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Pinto, whoa!</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE GAL I LEFT BEHIND ME <span class="pagenum"><a id="page342" name="page342"></a>(p. 342)</span></p> + +<p>I struck the trail in seventy-nine,<br> +The herd strung out behind me;<br> +As I jogged along my mind ran back<br> +For the gal I left behind me.<br> + <span class="add2em">That sweet little gal, that true little gal,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">The gal I left behind me!</span></p> + +<p>If ever I get off the trail<br> +And the Indians they don't find me,<br> +I'll make my way straight back again<br> +To the gal I left behind me.<br> + <span class="add2em">That sweet little gal, that true little gal,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">The gal I left behind me!</span></p> + +<p>The wind did blow, the rain did flow,<br> +The hail did fall and blind me;<br> +I thought of that gal, that sweet little gal,<br> +That gal I'd left behind me!<br> + <span class="add2em">That sweet little gal, that true little gal,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">The gal I left behind me!</span></p> + +<p>She wrote ahead to the place I said,<br> +I was always glad to find it.<br> +She says, "I am true, when you get through<br> +Right back here you will find me."<br> + <span class="add2em">That <span class="pagenum"><a id="page343" name="page343"></a>(p. 343)</span> sweet little gal, that true little gal,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">The gal I left behind me!</span></p> + +<p>When we sold out I took the train,<br> +I knew where I would find her;<br> +When I got back we had a smack<br> +And that was no gol-darned liar.<br> + <span class="add2em">That sweet little gal, that true little gal,</span><br> + <span class="add2em">The gal I left behind me!</span></p> + + +<p class="tit-song">BILLY THE KID <span class="pagenum"><a id="page344" name="page344"></a>(p. 344)</span></p> + +<p>Billy was a bad man<br> +And carried a big gun,<br> +He was always after Greasers<br> +And kept 'em on the run.</p> + +<p>He shot one every morning,<br> +For to make his morning meal.<br> +And let a white man sass him,<br> +He was shore to feel his steel.</p> + +<p>He kept folks in hot water,<br> +And he stole from many a stage;<br> +And when he was full of liquor<br> +He was always in a rage.</p> + +<p>But one day he met a man<br> +Who was a whole lot badder.<br> +And now he's dead,<br> +And we ain't none the sadder.</p> + +<p class="tit-song">THE HELL-BOUND TRAIN <span class="pagenum"><a id="page345" name="page345"></a>(p. 345)</span></p> + +<p>A Texas cowboy lay down on a bar-room floor.<br> +Having drunk so much he could drink no more;<br> +So he fell asleep with a troubled brain<br> +To dream that he rode on a hell-bound train.</p> + +<p>The engine with murderous blood was damp<br> +And was brilliantly lit with a brimstone lamp;<br> +An imp, for fuel, was shoveling bones,<br> +While the furnace rang with a thousand groans.</p> + +<p>The boiler was filled with lager beer<br> +And the devil himself was the engineer;<br> +The passengers were a most motley crew,—<br> +Church member, atheist, Gentile, and Jew,</p> + +<p>Rich men in broadcloth, beggars in rags,<br> +Handsome young ladies, and withered old hags,<br> +Yellow and black men, red, brown, and white.<br> +All chained together,—O God, what a sight!</p> + +<p>While the train rushed on at an awful pace,<br> +The sulphurous fumes scorched their hands and face;<br> +Wider and wider the country grew,<br> +As faster and faster the engine flew.</p> + +<p>Louder <span class="pagenum"><a id="page346" name="page346"></a>(p. 346)</span> and louder the thunder crashed<br> +And brighter and brighter the lightning flashed;<br> +Hotter and hotter the air became<br> +Till the clothes were burnt from each quivering frame.</p> + +<p>And out of the distance there arose a yell,<br> +"Ha, ha," said the devil, "we're nearing hell!"<br> +Then oh, how the passengers all shrieked with pain<br> +And begged the devil to stop the train.</p> + +<p>But he capered about and danced for glee<br> +And laughed and joked at their misery.<br> +"My faithful friends, you have done the work<br> +And the devil never can a payday shirk.</p> + +<p>"You've bullied the weak, you've robbed the poor;<br> +The starving brother you've turned from the door,<br> +You've laid up gold where the canker rust,<br> +And have given free vent to your beastly lust.</p> + +<p>"You've justice scorned, and corruption sown,<br> +And trampled the laws of nature down.<br> +You have drunk, rioted, cheated, plundered, and lied,<br> +And mocked at God in your hell-born pride.</p> + +<p>"You have paid full fare so I'll carry you through;<br> +For it's only right you should have your due.<br> +Why, the laborer always expects his hire,<br> +So I'll land you safe in the lake of fire.</p> + +<p>"Where <span class="pagenum"><a id="page347" name="page347"></a>(p. 347)</span> your flesh will waste in the flames that roar,<br> +And my imps torment you forever more."<br> +Then the cowboy awoke with an anguished cry,<br> +His clothes wet with sweat and his hair standing high.</p> + +<p>Then he prayed as he never had prayed till that hour<br> +To be saved from his sin and the demon's power.<br> +And his prayers and his vows were not in vain;<br> +For he never rode the hell-bound train.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE OLD SCOUT'S LAMENT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page348" name="page348"></a>(p. 348)</span></p> + +<p>Come all of you, my brother scouts,<br> +And listen to my song;<br> +Come, let us sing together<br> +Though the shadows fall so long.</p> + +<p>Of all the old frontiersmen<br> +That used to scour the plain<br> +There are but very few of them<br> +That with us yet remain.</p> + +<p>Day after day they're dropping off,<br> +They're going one by one;<br> +Our clan is fast decreasing,<br> +Our race is almost run.</p> + +<p>There are many of our number<br> +That never wore the blue,<br> +But faithfully they did their part<br> +As brave men, tried and true.</p> + +<p>They never joined the army,<br> +But had other work to do<br> +In piloting the coming folks,<br> +To help them safely through.</p> + +<p>But <span class="pagenum"><a id="page349" name="page349"></a>(p. 349)</span> brothers, we are failing,<br> +Our race is almost run;<br> +The days of elk and buffalo<br> +And beaver traps are gone—</p> + +<p>Oh, the days of elk and buffalo!<br> +It fills my heart with pain<br> +To know these days are past and gone<br> +To never come again.</p> + +<p>We fought the red-skin rascals<br> +Over valley, hill, and plain;<br> +We fought him in the mountain top,<br> +We fought him down again.</p> + +<p>These fighting days are over.<br> +The Indian yell resounds<br> +No more along the border;<br> +Peace sends far sweeter sounds.</p> + +<p>But we found great joy, old comrades,<br> +To hear and make it die;<br> +We won bright homes for gentle ones,<br> +And now, our West, good-bye.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE DESERTED ADOBE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page350" name="page350"></a>(p. 350)</span></p> + +<p>Round the 'dobe rank sands are thickly blowin',<br> +Its ridges fill the deserted field;<br> +Yet on this claim young lives once hope were sowing<br> +For all the years might yield;<br> +And in strong hands the echoing hoof pursuin'<br> +A wooden share turned up the sod,<br> +The toiler brave drank deep the fresh air's brewin'<br> +And sang content to God.<br> + <span class="add1em">The toiler brave drank deep the fresh air's brewin'</span><br> + <span class="add1em">And sang content to God.</span></p> + +<p>A woman fair and sweet has smilin' striven<br> +Through long and lonesome hours;<br> +A blue-eyed babe, a bit of earthly heaven,<br> +Laughed at the sun's hot towers;<br> +A bow of promise made this desert splendid,<br> +This 'dobe was their pride.<br> +But what began so well, alas, has ended—,<br> +The promise died.<br> + <span class="add1em">But what began so well alas soon ended—,</span><br> + <span class="add1em">The promise died.</span></p> + +<p>Their plans and dreams, their cheerful labor wasted<br> +In dry and mis-spent years;<br> +The spring was sweet, the summer bitter tasted,<br> +The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page351" name="page351"></a>(p. 351)</span> autumn salt with tears.<br> +Now "gyp" and sand do hide their one-time yearnin';<br> +'Twas theirs; 'tis past.<br> +God's ways are strange, we take so long in learnin',<br> +To fail at last.<br> + <span class="add1em">God's ways are strange, we take so long in learnin',</span><br> + <span class="add1em">To fail at last.</span></p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE COWBOY AT WORK <span class="pagenum"><a id="page352" name="page352"></a>(p. 352)</span></p> + +<p>You may call the cowboy horned and think him hard to tame,<br> +You may heap vile epithets upon his head;<br> +But to know him is to like him, notwithstanding his hard name,<br> +For he will divide with you his beef and bread.</p> + +<p>If you see him on his pony as he scampers o'er the plain,<br> +You would think him wild and woolly, to be sure;<br> +But his heart is warm and tender when he sees a friend in need,<br> +Though his education is but to endure.</p> + +<p>When the storm breaks in its fury and the lightning's vivid flash<br> +Makes you thank the Lord for shelter and for bed,<br> +Then it is he mounts his pony and away you see him dash,<br> +No protection but the hat upon his head.</p> + +<p>Such is life upon a cow ranch, and the half was never told;<br> +But you never find a kinder-hearted set<br> +Than <span class="pagenum"><a id="page353" name="page353"></a>(p. 353)</span> the cattleman at home, be he either young or old,<br> +He's a "daisy from away back," don't forget.</p> + +<p>When you fail to find a pony or a cow that's gone a-stray,<br> +Be that cow or pony wild or be it tame,<br> +The cowboy, like the drummer,—and the bed-bug, too, they say,—<br> +Brings him to you, for he gets there just the same.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">HERE'S TO THE RANGER! <span class="pagenum"><a id="page354" name="page354"></a>(p. 354)</span></p> + +<p>He leaves unplowed his furrow,<br> +He leaves his books unread<br> +For a life of tented freedom<br> +By lure of danger led.<br> +He's first in the hour of peril,<br> +He's gayest in the dance,<br> +Like the guardsman of old England<br> +Or the beau sabreur of France.</p> + +<p>He stands our faithful bulwark<br> +Against our savage foe;<br> +Through lonely woodland places<br> +Our children come and go;<br> +Our flocks and herds untended<br> +O'er hill and valley roam,<br> +The Ranger in the saddle<br> +Means peace for us at home.</p> + +<p>Behold our smiling farmsteads<br> +Where waves the golden grain!<br> +Beneath yon tree, earth's bosom<br> +Was dark with crimson stain.<br> +That bluff the death-shot echoed<br> +Of husband, father, slain!<br> +God <span class="pagenum"><a id="page355" name="page355"></a>(p. 355)</span> grant such sight of horror<br> +We never see again!</p> + +<p>The gay and hardy Ranger,<br> +His blanket on the ground,<br> +Lies by the blazing camp-fire<br> +While song and tale goes round;<br> +And if one voice is silent,<br> +One fails to hear the jest,<br> +They know his thoughts are absent<br> +With her who loves him best.</p> + +<p>Our state, her sons confess it,<br> +That queenly, star-crowned brow,<br> +Has darkened with the shadow<br> +Of lawlessness ere now;<br> +And men of evil passions<br> +On her reproach have laid,<br> +But that the ready Ranger<br> +Rode promptly to her aid.</p> + +<p>He may not win the laurel<br> +Nor trumpet tongue of fame;<br> +But beauty smiles upon him,<br> +And ranchmen bless his name.<br> +Then here's to the Texas Ranger,<br> +Past, present and to come!<br> +Our safety from the savage,<br> +The guardian of our home.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">MUSTER OUT THE RANGER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page356" name="page356"></a>(p. 356)</span></p> + +<p>Yes, muster them out, the valiant band<br> +That guards our western home.<br> +What matter to you in your eastern land<br> +If the raiders here should come?<br> +No danger that you shall awake at night<br> +To the howls of a savage band;<br> +So muster them out, though the morning light<br> +Find havoc on every hand.</p> + +<p>Some dear one is sick and the horses all gone,<br> +So we can't for a doctor send;<br> +The outlaws were in in the light of the morn<br> +And no Rangers here to defend.<br> +For they've mustered them out, the brave true band,<br> +Untiring by night and day.<br> +The fearless scouts of this border land<br> +Made the taxes high, they say.</p> + +<p>Have fewer men in the capitol walls,<br> +Fewer tongues in the war of words,<br> +But add to the Rangers, the living wall<br> +That keeps back the bandit hordes.<br> +Have fewer dinners, less turtle soup,<br> +If the taxes are too high.<br> +There <span class="pagenum"><a id="page357" name="page357"></a>(p. 357)</span> are many other and better ways<br> +To lower them if they try.</p> + +<p>Don't waste so much of your money<br> +Printing speeches people don't read.<br> +If you'd only take off what's used for that<br> +'Twould lower the tax indeed.<br> +Don't use so much sugar and lemons;<br> +Cold water is just as good<br> +For a constant drink in the summer time<br> +And better for the blood.</p> + +<p>But leave us the Rangers to guard us still,<br> +Nor think that they cost too dear;<br> +For their faithful watch over vale and hill<br> +Gives our loved ones naught to fear.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">A COW CAMP ON THE RANGE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page358" name="page358"></a>(p. 358)</span></p> + +<p>Oh, the prairie dogs are screaming,<br> +And the birds are on the wing,<br> +See the heel fly chase the heifer, boys!<br> +'Tis the first class sign of spring.<br> +The elm wood is budding,<br> +The earth is turning green.<br> +See the pretty things of nature<br> +That make life a pleasant dream!</p> + +<p>I'm just living through the winter<br> +To enjoy the coming change,<br> +For there is no place so homelike<br> +As a cow camp on the range.<br> +The boss is smiling radiant,<br> +Radiant as the setting sun;<br> +For he knows he's stealing glories,<br> +For he ain't a-cussin' none.</p> + +<p>The cook is at the chuck-box<br> +Whistling "Heifers in the Green,"<br> +Making baking powder biscuits, boys,<br> +While the pot is biling beans.<br> +The boys untie their bedding<br> +And unroll it on the run,<br> +For <span class="pagenum"><a id="page359" name="page359"></a>(p. 359)</span> they are in a monstrous hurry<br> +For the supper's almost done.</p> + +<p>"Here's your bloody wolf bait,"<br> +Cried the cook's familiar voice<br> +As he climbed the wagon wheel<br> +To watch the cowboys all rejoice.<br> +Then all thoughts were turned from reverence<br> +To a plate of beef and beans,<br> +As we graze on beef and biscuits<br> +Like yearlings on the range.</p> + +<p>To the dickens with your city<br> +Where they herd the brainless brats,<br> +On a range so badly crowded<br> +There ain't room to cuss the cat.<br> +This life is not so sumptuous,<br> +I'm not longing for a change,<br> +For there is no place so homelike<br> +As a cow camp on the range.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">FRECKLES. A FRAGMENT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page360" name="page360"></a>(p. 360)</span></p> + +<p>He was little an' peaked an' thin, an' narry a no account horse,—<br> +Least that's the way you'd describe him in case that the beast had been lost;<br> +But, for single and double cussedness an' for double fired sin,<br> +The horse never came out o' Texas that was half-way knee-high to him!</p> + +<p>The first time that ever I saw him was nineteen years ago last spring;<br> +'Twas the year we had grasshoppers, that come an' et up everything,<br> +That a feller rode up here one evenin' an' wanted to pen over night<br> +A small bunch of horses, he said; an' I told him I guessed 'twas all right.</p> + +<p>Well, the feller was busted, the horses was thin, an' the grass round here kind of good,<br> +An' he said if I'd let him hold here a few days he'd settle with me when he could.<br> +So <span class="pagenum"><a id="page361" name="page361"></a>(p. 361)</span> I told him all right, turn them loose down the draw, that the latch string was always untied,<br> +He was welcome to stop a few days if he wished and rest from his weary ride.</p> + +<p>Well, the cuss stayed around for two or three weeks, till at last he was ready to go;<br> +And that cuss out yonder bein' too poor to move, he gimme,—the cuss had no dough.<br> +Well, at first the darn brute was as wild as a deer, an' would snort when he came to the branch,<br> +An' it took two cow punchers, on good horses, too, to handle him here at the ranch.</p> + +<p>Well, the winter came on an' the range it got hard, an' my mustang commenced to get thin,<br> +So I fed him some an' rode him around, an' found out old Freckles was game.<br> +For that was what the other cuss called him,—just Freckles, no more or no less,—<br> +His color,—couldn't describe it,—something like a paint shop in distress.</p> + +<p>Them was Indian times, young feller, that I am telling about;<br> +An' oft's the time I've seen the red man fight an' put the boys to rout.<br> +A good horse in them days, young feller, would save your life,—<br> +One that in any race could hold the pace when the red-skin bands were rife.</p> + +<hr class="small"> + + +<p class="tit-song">WHOSE OLD COW? <span class="pagenum"><a id="page362" name="page362"></a>(p. 362)</span></p> + +<p>'Twas the end of round-up, the last day of June,<br> +Or maybe July, I don't remember,<br> +Or it might have been August, 'twas some time ago,<br> +Or perhaps 'twas the first of September.</p> + +<p>Anyhow, 'twas the round-up we had at Mayou<br> +On the Lightning Rod's range, near Cayo;<br> +There were some twenty wagons, more or less, camped about<br> +On the temporal in the cañon.</p> + +<p>First night we'd no cattle, so we only stood guard<br> +On the horses, somewhere near two hundred head;<br> +So we side-lined and hoppled, we belled and we staked,<br> +Loosed our hot-rolls and fell into bed.</p> + +<p>Next morning 'bout day break we started our work,<br> +Our horses, like 'possums, felt fine.<br> +Each one "tendin' knittin'," none tryin' to shirk!<br> +So the round-up got on in good time.</p> + +<p>Well, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page363" name="page363"></a>(p. 363)</span> we worked for a week till the country was clean<br> +And the bosses said, "Now, boys, we'll stay here.<br> +We'll carve and we'll trim 'em and start out a herd<br> +Up the east trail from old Abilene."</p> + +<p>Next morning all on herd, and but two with the cut,<br> +And the boss on Piute, carving fine,<br> +Till he rode down his horse and had to pull out,<br> +And a new man went in to clean up.</p> + +<p>Well, after each outfit had worked on the band<br> +There was only three head of them left;<br> +When Nig Add from L F D outfit rode in,—<br> +A dictionary on earmarks and brands.</p> + +<p>He cut the two head out, told where they belonged;<br> +But when the last cow stood there alone<br> +Add's eyes bulged so he didn't know just what to say,<br> +'Ceptin', "Boss, dere's something here monstrous wrong!</p> + +<p>"White folks smarter'n Add, and maybe I'se wrong;<br> +But here's six months' wages dat I'll give<br> +If anyone'll tell me when I reads dis mark<br> +To who dis longhorned cow belong!</p> + +<p>"Overslope in right ear an' de underbill,<br> +Lef' ear swaller fork an' de undercrop,<br> +Hole punched in center, an' de jinglebob<br> +Under half crop, an' de slash an' split.</p> + +<p>"She's <span class="pagenum"><a id="page364" name="page364"></a>(p. 364)</span> got O Block an' Lightnin' Rod,<br> +Nine Forty-Six an' A Bar Eleven,<br> +T Terrapin an' Ninety-Seven,<br> +Rafter Cross an' de Double Prod.</p> + +<p>"Half circle A an' Diamond D,<br> +Four Cross L and Three P Z,<br> +B W I bar, X V V,<br> +Bar N cross an' A L C.</p> + +<p>"So, if none o' you punchers claims dis cow,<br> +Mr. Stock 'Sociation needn't git 'larmed;<br> +For one more brand more or less won't do no harm,<br> +So old Nigger Add'l just brand her now."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">OLD TIME COWBOY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page365" name="page365"></a>(p. 365)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you melancholy folks wherever you may be,<br> +I'll sing you about the cowboy whose life is light and free.<br> +He roams about the prairie, and, at night when he lies down,<br> +His heart is as gay as the flowers in May in his bed upon the ground.</p> + +<p>They're a little bit rough, I must confess, the most of them, at least;<br> +But if you do not hunt a quarrel you can live with them in peace;<br> +For if you do, you're sure to rue the day you joined their band.<br> +They will follow you up and shoot it out with you just man to man.</p> + +<p>Did you ever go to a cowboy whenever hungry and dry,<br> +Asking for a dollar, and have him you deny?<br> +He'll just pull out his pocket book and hand you a note,—<br> +They are the fellows to help you whenever you are broke.</p> + +<p>Go <span class="pagenum"><a id="page366" name="page366"></a>(p. 366)</span> to their ranches and stay a while, they never ask a cent;<br> +And when they go to town, their money is freely spent.<br> +They walk straight up and take a drink, paying for every one,<br> +And they never ask your pardon for anything they've done.</p> + +<p>When they go to their dances, some dance while others pat<br> +They ride their bucking bronchos, and wear their broad-brimmed hats;<br> +With their California saddles, and their pants stuck in their boots,<br> +You can hear their spurs a-jingling, and perhaps some of them shoots.</p> + +<p>Come all soft-hearted tenderfeet, if you want to have some fun;<br> +Go live among the cowboys, they'll show you how it's done.<br> +They'll treat you like a prince, my boys, about them there's nothing mean;<br> +But don't try to give them too much advice, for all of them ain't green.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">BUCKING BRONCHO <span class="pagenum"><a id="page367" name="page367"></a>(p. 367)</span></p> + +<p>My love is a rider, wild bronchos he breaks,<br> +Though he's promised to quit it, just for my sake.<br> +He ties up one foot, the saddle puts on,<br> +With a swing and a jump he is mounted and gone.</p> + +<p>The first time I met him, 'twas early one spring,<br> +Riding a broncho, a high-headed thing.<br> +He tipped me a wink as he gaily did go;<br> +For he wished me to look at his bucking broncho.</p> + +<p>The next time I saw him 'twas late in the fall,<br> +Swinging the girls at Tomlinson's ball.<br> +He laughed and he talked as we danced to and fro,<br> +Promised never to ride on another broncho.</p> + +<p>He made me some presents, among them a ring;<br> +The return that I made him was a far better thing;<br> +'Twas a young maiden's heart, I'd have you all know;<br> +He's won it by riding his bucking broncho.</p> + +<p>My love has a gun, and that gun he can use,<br> +But he's quit his gun fighting as well as his booze;<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page368" name="page368"></a>(p. 368)</span> he's sold him his saddle, his spurs, and his rope,<br> +And there's no more cow punching, and that's what I hope.</p> + +<p>My love has a gun that has gone to the bad,<br> +Which makes poor old Jimmy feel pretty damn sad;<br> +For the gun it shoots high and the gun it shoots low,<br> +And it wobbles about like a bucking broncho.</p> + +<p>Now all you young maidens, where'er you reside,<br> +Beware of the cowboy who swings the raw-hide;<br> +He'll court you and pet you and leave you and go<br> +In the spring up the trail on his bucking broncho.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE PECOS QUEEN <span class="pagenum"><a id="page369" name="page369"></a>(p. 369)</span></p> + +<p>Where the Pecos River winds and turns in its journey to the sea,<br> +From its white walls of sand and rock striving ever to be free,<br> +Near the highest railroad bridge that all these modern times have seen,<br> +Dwells fair young Patty Morehead, the Pecos River queen.</p> + +<p>She is known by every cowboy on the Pecos River wide,<br> +They know full well that she can shoot, that she can rope and ride.<br> +She goes to every round-up, every cow work without fail,<br> +Looking out for her cattle, branded "walking hog on rail."</p> + +<p>She made her start in cattle, yes, made it with her rope;<br> +Can tie down every maverick before it can strike a lope.<br> +She can rope and tie and brand it as quick as any man;<br> +She's voted by all cowboys an A-1 top cow hand.</p> + +<p>Across <span class="pagenum"><a id="page370" name="page370"></a>(p. 370)</span> the Comstock railroad bridge, the highest in the West,<br> +Patty rode her horse one day, a lover's heart to test;<br> +For he told her he would gladly risk all dangers for her sake—<br> +But the puncher wouldn't follow, so she's still without a mate.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">CHOPO <span class="pagenum"><a id="page371" name="page371"></a>(p. 371)</span></p> + +<p>Through rocky arroyas so dark and so deep,<br> +Down the sides of the mountains so slippery and steep,—<br> +You've good judgment, sure-footed, wherever you go,<br> +You're a safety conveyance, my little Chopo.</p> + + <p class="add1em">Refrain:—<br> + Chopo, my pony, Chopo, my pride,<br> + Chopo, my amigo, Chopo I will ride.<br> + From Mexico's borders 'cross Texas' Llano<br> + To the salt Pecos River, I ride you, Chopo.</p> + +<p>Whether single or double or in the lead of the team,<br> +Over highways or byways or crossing a stream,—<br> +You're always in fix and willing to go,<br> +Whenever you're called on, my chico Chopo.</p> + +<p>You're a good roping horse, you were never jerked down,<br> +When tied to a steer, you will circle him round;<br> +Let him once cross the string and over he'll go,—<br> +You sabe the business, my cow-horse, Chopo.</p> + +<p>One <span class="pagenum"><a id="page372" name="page372"></a>(p. 372)</span> day on the Llano a hailstorm began,<br> +The herds were stampeded, the horses all ran,<br> +The lightning it glittered, a cyclone did blow,<br> +But you faced the sweet music, my little Chopo.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">TOP HAND <span class="pagenum"><a id="page373" name="page373"></a>(p. 373)</span></p> + +<p>While you're all so frisky I'll sing a little song,—<br> +Think a little horn of whiskey will help the thing along?<br> +It's all about the Top Hand, when he busted flat<br> +Bummin' round the town, in his Mexican hat.<br> +He's laid up all winter, and his pocket book is flat,<br> +His clothes are all tatters, but he don't mind that.</p> + +<p>See him in town with a crowd that he knows,<br> +Rollin' cigarettes and smokin' through his nose.<br> +First thing he tells you, he owns a certain brand,—<br> +Leads you to think he is a daisy hand;<br> +Next thing he tells you 'bout his trip up the trail,<br> +All the way to Kansas, to finish out his tale.</p> + +<p>Put him on a hoss, he's a handy hand to work;<br> +Put him in the brandin'-pen, he's dead sure to shirk.<br> +With his natural leaf tobacco in the pockets of his vest<br> +He'll tell you his California pants are the best.<br> +He's handled lots of cattle, hasn't any fears,<br> +Can draw his sixty dollars for the balance of his years.</p> + +<p>Put him on herd, he's a-cussin' all day;<br> +Anything he tries, it's sure to get away.<br> +When <span class="pagenum"><a id="page374" name="page374"></a>(p. 374)</span> you have a round-up, he tells it all about<br> +He's goin' to do the cuttin' an' you can't keep him out.<br> +If anything goes wrong, he lays it on the screws,<br> +Says the lazy devils were tryin' to take a snooze.</p> + +<p>When he meets a greener he ain't afraid to rig,<br> +Stands him on a chuck box and makes him dance a jig,—<br> +Waves a loaded cutter, makes him sing and shout,—<br> +He's a regular Ben Thompson when the boss ain't about.<br> +When the boss ain't about he leaves his leggins in camp,<br> +He swears a man who wears them is worse than a tramp.</p> + +<p>Says he's not carin' for the wages he earns,<br> +For Dad's rich in Texas,—got wagon loads to burn;<br> +But when he goes to town, he's sure to take it in,<br> +He's always been dreaded wherever he's been.<br> +He rides a fancy horse, he's a favorite man,<br> +Can get more credit than a common waddie can.</p> + +<p>When you ship the cattle he's bound to go along<br> +To keep the boss from drinking and see that nothing's wrong.<br> +Wherever he goes, catch on to his name,<br> +He likes to be called with a handle to his name.<br> +He's always primping with a pocket looking-glass,<br> +From the top to the bottom he's a bold Jackass.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">CALIFORNIA TRAIL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page375" name="page375"></a>(p. 375)</span></p> + +<p>List all you California boys<br> +And open wide your ears,<br> +For now we start across the plains<br> +With a herd of mules and steers.<br> +Now, bear in mind before you start,<br> +That you'll eat jerked beef, not ham,<br> +And antelope steak, Oh cuss the stuff!<br> +It often proves a sham.</p> + +<p>You cannot find a stick of wood<br> +On all this prairie wide;<br> +Whene'er you eat you've got to stand<br> +Or sit on some old bull hide.<br> +It's fun to cook with buffalo chips<br> +Or mesquite, green as corn,—<br> +If I'd once known what I know now<br> +I'd have gone around Cape Horn.</p> + +<p>The women have the hardest time<br> +Who emigrate by land;<br> +For when they cook out in the wind<br> +They're sure to burn their hand.<br> +Then they scold their husbands round,<br> +Get mad and spill the tea,—<br> +I'd have thanked my stars if they'd not come out<br> +Upon this bleak prairie.</p> + +<p>Most <span class="pagenum"><a id="page376" name="page376"></a>(p. 376)</span> every night we put out guards<br> +To keep the Indians off.<br> +When night comes round some heads will ache,<br> +And some begin to cough.<br> +To be deprived of help at night,<br> +You know is mighty hard,<br> +But every night there's someone sick<br> +To keep from standing guard.</p> + +<p>Then they're always talking of what they've got,<br> +And what they're going to do;<br> +Some will say they're content,<br> +For I've got as much as you.<br> +Others will say, "I'll buy or sell,<br> +I'm damned if I care which."<br> +Others will say, "Boys, buy him out,<br> +For he doesn't own a stitch."</p> + +<p>Old raw-hide shoes are hell on corns<br> +While tramping through the sands,<br> +And driving jackass by the tail,—<br> +Damn the overland!<br> +I would as leaf be on a raft at sea<br> +And there at once be lost.<br> +John, let's leave the poor old mule,<br> +We'll never get him across!</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">BRONC PEELER'S SONG <span class="pagenum"><a id="page377" name="page377"></a>(p. 377)</span></p> + +<p>I've been upon the prairie,<br> +I've been upon the plain,<br> +I've never rid a steam-boat,<br> +Nor a double-cinched-up train.<br> +But I've driv my eight-up to wagon<br> +That were locked three in a row,<br> +And that through blindin' sand storms,<br> +And all kinds of wind and snow.</p> + + <p class="add1em">Cho:—<br> + Goodbye, Liza, poor gal,<br> + Goodbye, Liza Jane,<br> + Goodbye, Liza, poor gal,<br> + She died on the plain.</p> + +<p>There never was a place I've been<br> +Had any kind of wood.<br> +We burn the roots of bar-grass<br> +And think it's very good.<br> +I've never tasted home bread,<br> +Nor cakes, nor muss like that;<br> +But I know fried dough and beef<br> +Pulled from red-hot tallow fat.</p> + +<p>I hate to see the wire fence<br> +A-closin' up the range;<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page378" name="page378"></a>(p. 378)</span> all this fillin' in the trail<br> +With people that is strange.<br> +We fellers don't know how to plow,<br> +Nor reap the golden grain;<br> +But to round up steers and brand the cows<br> +To us was allus plain.</p> + +<p>So when this blasted country<br> +Is all closed in with wire,<br> +And all the top, as trot grass,<br> +Is burnin' in Sol's fire,<br> +I hope the settlers will be glad<br> +When rain hits the land.<br> +And all us cowdogs are in hell<br> +With a "set"<a id="footnotetag9" name="footnotetag9"></a><a href="#footnote9">[9]</a> joined hand in hand.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">A DEER HUNT <span class="pagenum"><a id="page379" name="page379"></a>(p. 379)</span></p> + +<p>One pleasant summer day it came a storm of snow;<br> +I picked my old gun and a-hunting I did go.</p> + +<p>I came across a herd of deer and I trailed them through the snow,<br> +I trailed them to the mountains where straight up they did go.</p> + +<p>I trailed them o'er the mountains, I trailed them to the brim,<br> +And I trailed them to the waters where they jumped in to swim.</p> + +<p>I cocked both my pistols and under water went,—<br> +To kill the fattest of them deer, that was my whole intent.</p> + +<p>While I was under water five hundred feet or more<br> +I fired both my pistols; like cannons did they roar.</p> + +<p>I picked up my venison and out of water came,—<br> +To kill the balance of them deer, I thought it would be fun.</p> + +<p>So <span class="pagenum"><a id="page380" name="page380"></a>(p. 380)</span> I bent my gun in circles and fired round a hill.<br> +And, out of three or four deer, ten thousand I did kill.</p> + +<p>Then I picked up my venison and on my back I tied<br> +And as the sun came passing by I hopped up there to ride.</p> + +<p>The sun she carried me o'er the globe, so merrily I did roam<br> +That in four and twenty hours I landed safe at home.</p> + +<p>And the money I received for my venison and skin,<br> +I taken it all to the barn door and it would not all go in.</p> + +<p>And if you doubt the truth of this I tell you how to know:<br> +Just take my trail and go my rounds, as I did, long ago.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">WINDY BILL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page381" name="page381"></a>(p. 381)</span></p> + +<p>Windy Bill was a Texas man,—<br> +Well, he could rope, you bet.<br> +He swore the steer he couldn't tie,—<br> +Well, he hadn't found him yet.<br> +But the boys they knew of an old black steer,<br> +A sort of an old outlaw<br> +That ran down in the malpais<br> +At the foot of a rocky draw.</p> + +<p>This old black steer had stood his ground<br> +With punchers from everywhere;<br> +So they bet old Bill at two to one<br> +That he couldn't quite get there.<br> +Then Bill brought out his old gray hoss,<br> +His withers and back were raw,<br> +And prepared to tackle the big black brute<br> +That ran down in the draw.</p> + +<p>With his brazen bit and his Sam Stack tree<br> +His chaps and taps to boot,<br> +And his old maguey tied hard and fast,<br> +Bill swore he'd get the brute.<br> +Now, first Bill sort of sauntered round<br> +Old Blackie began to paw,<br> +Then threw his tail straight in the air<br> +And went driftin' down the draw.</p> + +<p>The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page382" name="page382"></a>(p. 382)</span> old gray plug flew after him,<br> +For he'd been eatin' corn;<br> +And Bill, he piled his old maguey<br> +Right round old Blackie's horns.<br> +The old gray hoss he stopped right still;<br> +The cinches broke like straw,<br> +And the old maguey and the Sam Stack tree<br> +Went driftin' down the draw.</p> + +<p>Bill, he lit in a flint rock pile,<br> +His face and hands were scratched.<br> +He said he thought he could rope a snake<br> +But he guessed he'd met his match.<br> +He paid his bets like a little man<br> +Without a bit of jaw,<br> +And lowed old Blackie was the boss<br> +Of anything in the draw.</p> + +<p>There's a moral to my story, boys,<br> +And that you all must see.<br> +Whenever you go to tie a snake,<a id="footnotetag10" name="footnotetag10"></a><a href="#footnote10">[10]</a><br> +Don't tie it to your tree;<br> +But take your dolly welters<a id="footnotetag11" name="footnotetag11"></a><a href="#footnote11">[11]</a><br> +'Cordin' to California law,<br> +And you'll never see your old rim-fire<a id="footnotetag12" name="footnotetag12"></a><a href="#footnote12">[12]</a><br> +Go drifting down the draw.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">WILD ROVERS <span class="pagenum"><a id="page383" name="page383"></a>(p. 383)</span></p> + +<p>Come all you wild rovers<br> +And listen to me<br> +While I retail to you<br> +My sad history.<br> +I'm a man of experience<br> +Your favors to gain,<br> +Oh, love has been the ruin<br> +Of many a poor man.</p> + +<p>When you are single<br> +And living at your ease<br> +You can roam this world over<br> +And do as you please;<br> +You can roam this world over<br> +And go where you will<br> +And slyly kiss a pretty girl<br> +And be your own still.</p> + +<p>But when you are married<br> +And living with your wife,<br> +You've lost all the joys<br> +And comforts of life.<br> +Your wife she will scold you,<br> +Your children will cry,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page384" name="page384"></a>(p. 384)</span> that will make papa<br> +Look withered and dry.</p> + +<p>You can't step aside, boys,<br> +To speak to a friend<br> +Without your wife at your elbow<br> +Saying, "What does this mean?"<br> +Your wife, she will scold<br> +And there is sad news.<br> +Dear boys, take warning;<br> +'Tis a life to refuse.</p> + +<p>If you chance to be riding<br> +Along the highway<br> +And meet a fair maiden,<br> +A lady so gay,<br> +With red, rosy cheeks<br> +And sparkling blue eyes,—<br> +Oh, heavens! what a tumult<br> +In your bosom will rise!</p> + +<p>One more request, boys,<br> +Before we must part:<br> +Don't place your affections<br> +On a charming sweetheart;<br> +She'll dance before you<br> +Your favors to gain.<br> +Oh, turn your back on them<br> +With scorn and disdain!</p> + +<p>Come <span class="pagenum"><a id="page385" name="page385"></a>(p. 385)</span> close to the bar, boys,<br> +We'll drink all around.<br> +We'll drink to the pure,<br> +If any be found;<br> +We'll drink to the single,<br> +For I wish them success;<br> +Likewise to the married,<br> +For I wish them no less.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">LIFE IN A HALF-BREED SHACK <span class="pagenum"><a id="page386" name="page386"></a>(p. 386)</span></p> + +<p>'Tis life in a half-breed shack,<br> +The rain comes pouring down;<br> +"Drip" drops the mud through the roof,<br> +And the wind comes through the wall.<br> +A tenderfoot cursed his luck<br> +And feebly cried out "yah!"</p> + + <p class="add1em">Refrain:<br> + Yah! Yah! I want to go home to my ma!<br> + Yah! Yah! this bloomin' country's a fraud!<br> + Yah! Yah! I want to go home to my ma!</p> + +<p>He tries to kindle a fire<br> +When it's forty-five below;<br> +He aims to chop at a log<br> +And amputates his toe;<br> +He hobbles back to the shack<br> +And feebly cries out "yah"!</p> + +<p>He gets on a bucking cayuse<br> +And thinks to flourish around,<br> +But the buzzard-head takes to bucking<br> +And lays him flat out on the ground.<br> +As he picks himself up with a curse,<br> +He feebly cries out "yah"!</p> + +<p>He <span class="pagenum"><a id="page387" name="page387"></a>(p. 387)</span> buys all the town lots he can get<br> +In the wrong end of Calgary,<br> +And he waits and he waits for the boom<br> +Until he's dead broke like me.<br> +He couldn't get any tick<br> +So he feebly cries out "yah"!</p> + +<p>He couldn't do any work<br> +And he wouldn't know how if he could;<br> +So the police run him for a vag<br> +And set him to bucking wood.<br> +As he sits in the guard room cell,<br> +He feebly cries out "yah"!</p> + +<p>Come all ye tenderfeet<br> +And listen to what I say,<br> +If you can't get a government job<br> +You had better remain where you be.<br> +Then you won't curse your luck<br> +And cry out feebly "yah"!</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE ROAD TO COOK'S PEAK <span class="pagenum"><a id="page388" name="page388"></a>(p. 388)</span></p> + +<p>If you'll listen a while I'll sing you a song,<br> +And as it is short it won't take me long.<br> +There are some things of which I will speak<br> +Concerning the stage on the road to Cook's Peak.<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +Concerning the stage on the road to Cook's Peak.</p> + +<p>It was in the morning at eight-forty-five,<br> +I was hooking up all ready to drive<br> +Out where the miners for minerals seek,<br> +With two little mules on the road to Cook's Peak—<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +With two little mules on the road to Cook's Peak.</p> + +<p>With my two little mules I jog along<br> +And try to cheer them with ditty and song;<br> +O'er the wide prairie where coyotes sneak,<br> +While driving the stage on the road to Cook's Peak.<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +While driving the stage on the road to Cook's Peak.</p> + +<p>Sometimes I have to haul heavy freight,<br> +Then it is I get home very late.<br> +In <span class="pagenum"><a id="page389" name="page389"></a>(p. 389)</span> rain or shine, six days in the week,<br> +'Tis the same little mules on the road to Cook's Peak.<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +'Tis the same little mules on the road to Cook's Peak.</p> + +<p>And when with the driving of stage I am through<br> +I will to my two little mules bid adieu.<br> +And hope that those creatures, so gentle and meek,<br> +Will have a good friend on the road to Cook's Peak.<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +Will have a good friend on the road to Cook's Peak.</p> + +<p>Now all kind friends that travel about,<br> +Come take a trip on the Wallis stage route.<br> +With a plenty of grit, they never get weak,—<br> +Those two little mules on the road to Cook's Peak.<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +On the road to Cook's Peak,—<br> +Those two little mules on the road to Cook's Peak.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">ARAPHOE, OR BUCKSKIN JOE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page390" name="page390"></a>(p. 390)</span></p> + +<p>'Twas a calm and peaceful evening in a camp called Araphoe,<br> +And the whiskey was a running with a soft and gentle flow,<br> +The music was a-ringing in a dance hall cross the way,<br> +And the dancers was a-swinging just as close as they could lay.</p> + +<p>People gathered round the tables, a-betting with their wealth,<br> +And near by stood a stranger who had come there for his health.<br> +He was a peaceful little stranger though he seemed to be unstrung;<br> +For just before he'd left his home he'd separated with one lung.</p> + +<p>Nearby at a table sat a man named Hankey Dean,<br> +A tougher man says Hankey, buckskin chaps had never seen.<br> +But Hankey was a gambler and he was plum sure to lose;<br> +For he had just departed with a sun-dried stack of blues.</p> + +<p>He <span class="pagenum"><a id="page391" name="page391"></a>(p. 391)</span> rose from the table, on the floor his last chip flung,<br> +And cast his fiery glimmers on the man with just one lung.<br> +"No wonder I've been losing every bet I made tonight<br> +When a sucker and a tenderfoot was between me and the light.</p> + +<p>Look here, little stranger, do you know who I am?"<br> +"Yes, and I don't care a copper colored damn."<br> +The dealers stopped their dealing and the players held their breath;<br> +For words like those to Hankey were a sudden flirt with death.</p> + +<p>"Listen, gentle stranger, I'll read my pedigree:<br> +I'm known on handling tenderfeet and worser men than thee;<br> +The lions on the mountains, I've drove them to their lairs;<br> +The wild-cats are my playmates, and I've wrestled grizzly bears;</p> + +<p>"Why, the centipedes can't mar my tough old hide,<br> +And rattle snakes have bit me and crawled off and died.<br> +I'm as wild as the horse that roams the range;<br> +The moss grows on my teeth and wild blood flows through my veins.</p> + +<p>"I'm <span class="pagenum"><a id="page392" name="page392"></a>(p. 392)</span> wild and woolly and full of fleas<br> +And never curried below the knees.<br> +Now, little stranger, if you'll give me your address,—<br> +How would you like to go, by fast mail or express?"</p> + +<p>The little stranger who was leaning on the door<br> +Picked up a hand of playing cards that were scattered on the floor.<br> +Picking out the five of spades, he pinned it to the door<br> +And then stepped back some twenty paces or more.</p> + +<p>He pulled out his life-preserver, and with a "one, two, three, four,"<br> +Blotted out a spot with every shot;<br> +For he had traveled with a circus and was a fancy pistol shot.<br> +"I have one more left, kind sir, if you wish to call the play."</p> + +<p>Then Hanke stepped up to the stranger and made a neat apology,<br> +"Why, the lions in the mountains,—that was nothing but a joke.<br> +Never mind about the extra, you are a bad shooting man,<br> +And I'm a meek little child and as harmless as a lamb."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">ROUNDED UP IN GLORY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page393" name="page393"></a>(p. 393)</span></p> + +<p>I have been thinking to-day,<br> +As my thoughts began to stray,<br> +Of your memory to me worth more than gold.<br> +As you ride across the plain,<br> +'Mid the sunshine and the rain,—<br> +You will be rounded up in glory bye and bye.</p> + + <p class="add2em">Chorus:<br> + You will be rounded up in glory bye and bye,<br> + You will be rounded up in glory bye and bye,<br> + When the milling time is o'er<br> + And you will stampede no more,<br> + When he rounds you up within the Master's fold.</p> + +<p>As you ride across the plain<br> +With the cowboys that have fame,<br> +And the storms and the lightning flash by.<br> +We shall meet to part no more<br> +Upon the golden shore<br> +When he rounds us up in glory bye and bye.</p> + +<p>May we lift our voices high<br> +To that sweet bye and bye,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page394" name="page394"></a>(p. 394)</span> be known by the brand of the Lord;<br> +For his property we are,<br> +And he will know us from afar<br> +When he rounds us up in glory bye and bye.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE DRUNKARD'S HELL <span class="pagenum"><a id="page395" name="page395"></a>(p. 395)</span></p> + +<p>It was on a cold and stormy night<br> +I saw and heard an awful sight;<br> +The lightning flashed and thunder rolled<br> +Around my poor benighted soul.</p> + +<p>I thought I heard a mournful sound<br> +Among the groans still lower down,<br> +That awful sight no tongue can tell<br> +Is this,—the place called Drunkard's Hell.</p> + +<p>I thought I saw the gulf below<br> +Where all the dying drunkards go.<br> +I raised my hand and sad to tell<br> +It was the place called Drunkard's Hell.</p> + +<p>I traveled on and got there at last<br> +And started to take a social glass;<br> +But every time I started,—well,<br> +I thought about the Drunkard's Hell.</p> + +<p>I dashed it down to leave that place<br> +And started to seek redeeming grace.<br> +I felt like Paul, at once I'd pray<br> +Till all my sins were washed away.</p> + +<p>I <span class="pagenum"><a id="page396" name="page396"></a>(p. 396)</span> then went home to change my life<br> +And see my long neglected wife.<br> +I found her weeping o'er the bed<br> +Because her infant babe was dead.</p> + +<p>I told her not to mourn and weep<br> +Because her babe had gone to sleep;<br> +Its happy soul had fled away<br> +To dwell with Christ till endless day.</p> + +<p>I taken her by her pale white hand,<br> +She was so weak she could not stand;<br> +I laid her down and breathed a prayer<br> +That God might bless and save her there.</p> + +<p>I then went to the Temperance hall<br> +And taken a pledge among them all.<br> +They taken me in with a willing hand<br> +And taken me in as a temperance man.</p> + +<p>So seven long years have passed away<br> +Since first I bowed my knees to pray;<br> +So now I live a sober life<br> +With a happy home and a loving wife.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">RAMBLING BOY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page397" name="page397"></a>(p. 397)</span></p> + +<p>I am a wild and roving lad,<br> +A wild and rambling lad I'll be;<br> +For I do love a little girl<br> +And she does love me.</p> + +<p>"O Willie, O Willie, I love you so,<br> +I love you more than I do know;<br> +And if my tongue could tell you so<br> +I'd give the world to let you know."</p> + +<p>When Julia's old father came this to know,—<br> +That Julia and Willie were loving so,—<br> +He ripped and swore among them all,<br> +And swore he'd use a cannon ball.</p> + +<p>She wrote Willie a letter with her right hand<br> +And sent it to him in the western land.<br> +"Oh, read these lines, sweet William dear.<br> +For this is the last of me you will hear."</p> + +<p>He read those lines while he wept and cried,<br> +"Ten thousand times I wish I had died",<br> +He read those lines while he wept and said,<br> +"Ten thousand times I wish I were dead."</p> + +<p>When <span class="pagenum"><a id="page398" name="page398"></a>(p. 398)</span> her old father came home that night<br> +He called for Julia, his heart's delight,<br> +He ran up stairs and her door he broke<br> +And found her hanging by her own bed rope.</p> + +<p>And with his knife he cut her down,<br> +And in her bosom this note he found<br> +Saying, "Dig my grave both deep and wide<br> +And bury sweet Willie by my side."</p> + +<p>They dug her grave both deep and wide<br> +And buried sweet Willie by her side;<br> +And on her grave set a turtle dove<br> +To show the world they died for love.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">BRIGHAM YOUNG. I. <span class="pagenum"><a id="page399" name="page399"></a>(p. 399)</span></p> + +<p>I'll sing you a song that has often been sung<br> +About an old Mormon they called Brigham Young.<br> +Of wives he had many who were strong in the lungs,<br> +Which Brigham found out by the length of their tongues.<br> +Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.</p> + +<p>Oh, sad was the life of a Mormon to lead,<br> +Yet Brigham adhered all his life to his creed.<br> +He said 'twas such fun, and true, without doubt,<br> +To see the young wives knock the old ones about.<br> +Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.</p> + +<p>One day as old Brigham sat down to his dinner<br> +He saw a young wife who was not getting thinner;<br> +When the elders cried out, one after the other,<br> +By the holy, she wants to go home to her mother.<br> +Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.</p> + +<p>Old Brigham replied, which can't be denied,<br> +He couldn't afford to lose such a bride.<br> +Then do not be jealous but banish your fears;<br> +For the tree is well known by the fruit that it bears.<br> +Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.</p> + +<p>That <span class="pagenum"><a id="page400" name="page400"></a>(p. 400)</span> I love one and all you very well know,<br> +Then do not provoke me or my anger will show.<br> +What must be our fate if found here in a row,<br> +If Uncle Sam comes with his row-de-dow-dow.<br> +Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.</p> + +<p>Then cease all your quarrels and do not despair,<br> +To meet Uncle Sam I will quickly prepare.<br> +Hark! I hear Yankee Doodle played over the hills!<br> +Ah! here's the enemy with their powder and pills.<br> +Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">BRIGHAM YOUNG. II. <span class="pagenum"><a id="page401" name="page401"></a>(p. 401)</span></p> + +<p>Now Brigham Young is a Mormon bold,<br> +And a leader of the roaring rams,<br> +And shepherd of a lot of fine tub sheep<br> +And a lot of pretty little lambs.<br> +Oh, he lives with his five and forty wives,<br> +In the city of the Great Salt Lake,<br> +Where they breed and swarm like hens on a farm<br> +And cackle like ducks to a drake.</p> + + <p class="add1em"><span class="add1em">Chorus:—</span><br> + Oh Brigham, Brigham Young,<br> + It's a miracle how you survive,<br> + With your roaring rams and your pretty little lambs<br> + And your five and forty wives.</p> + +<p>Number forty-five is about sixteen,<br> +Number one is sixty and three;<br> +And they make such a riot, how he keeps them quiet<br> +Is a downright mystery to me.<br> +For they clatter and they chaw and they jaw, jaw, jaw,<br> +And each has a different desire;<br> +It would aid the renown of the best shop in town<br> +To supply them with half they desire.</p> + +<p>Now, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page402" name="page402"></a>(p. 402)</span> Brigham Young was a stout man once,<br> +And now he is thin and old;<br> +And I am sorry to state he is bald on the pate,<br> +Which once had a covering of gold.<br> +For his oldest wives won't have white wool,<br> +And his young ones won't have red,<br> +So, with tearing it out, and taking turn about,<br> +They have torn all the hair off his head.</p> + +<p>Now, the oldest wives sing songs all day,<br> +And the young ones all sing songs;<br> +And amongst such a crowd he has it pretty loud,—<br> +They're as noisy as Chinese gongs.<br> +And when they advance for a Mormon dance<br> +He is filled with the direst alarms;<br> +For they are sure to end the night in a tabernacle fight<br> +To see who has the fairest charms.</p> + +<p>Now, if any man here envies Brigham Young<br> +Let him go to the Great Salt Lake;<br> +And if he has the leisure to enjoy his pleasure,<br> +He'll find it a great mistake.<br> +One wife at a time, so says my rhyme,<br> +Is enough,—there's no denial;—<br> +So, before you strive to be lord of forty-five,<br> +Take two for a month on trial.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE OLD GRAY MULE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page403" name="page403"></a>(p. 403)</span></p> + +<p>I am an old man some sixty years old<br> +And that you can plain-li see,<br> +But when I was a young man ten years old<br> +They made a stable boy of me.</p> + +<p>I have seen the fastest horses<br> +That made the fastest time,<br> +But I never saw one in all my life<br> +Like that old gray mule of mine.</p> + +<p>On a Sunday morn I dress myself,<br> +A-goin' out to ride;<br> +Now, my old mule is as gray as a bird,<br> +Then he is full of his pride.</p> + +<p>He never runs away with you,<br> +Never cuts up any shine;<br> +For the only friend I have on earth<br> +Is this old gray mule of mine.</p> + +<p>Now my old gray mule is dead and gone,<br> +Gone to join the heavenly band,<br> +With silver shoes upon his feet<br> +To dance on the golden strand.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE FOOLS OF FORTY-NINE <span class="pagenum"><a id="page404" name="page404"></a>(p. 404)</span></p> + +<p>When gold was found in forty-eight the people thought 'twas gas,<br> +And some were fools enough to think the lumps were only brass.<br> +But soon they all were satisfied and started off to mine;<br> +They bought their ships, came round the Horn, in the days of forty-nine.</p> + + <p class="add1em">Refrain:<br> + Then they thought of what they'd been told<br> + When they started after gold,—<br> + That they never in the world would make a pile.</p> + +<p>The people all were crazy then, they didn't know what to do.<br> +They sold their farms for just enough to pay their passage through.<br> +They bid their friends a long farewell, said, "Dear wife, don't you cry,<br> +I'll send you home the yellow lumps a piano for to buy."</p> + +<p>The poor, the old, and the rotten scows were advertised to sail<br> +From <span class="pagenum"><a id="page405" name="page405"></a>(p. 405)</span> New Orleans with passengers, but they must pump and bail.<br> +The ships were crowded more than full, and some hung on behind,<br> +And others dived off from the wharf and swam till they were blind.</p> + +<p>With rusty pork and stinking beef and rotten, wormy bread!<br> +The captains, too, that never were up as high as the main mast head!<br> +The steerage passengers would rave and swear that they'd paid their passage<br> +And wanted something more to eat beside bologna sausage.</p> + +<p>They then began to cross the plain with oxen, hollowing "haw."<br> +And steamers then began to run as far as Panama.<br> +And there for months the people staid, that started after gold,<br> +And some returned disgusted with the lies that had been told.</p> + +<p>The people died on every route, they sickened and died like sheep;<br> +And those at sea before they died were launched into the deep;<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page406" name="page406"></a>(p. 406)</span> those that died while crossing the plains fared not so well as that,<br> +For a hole was dug and they thrown in along the miserable Platte.</p> + +<p>The ships at last began to arrive and the people began to inquire.<br> +They say that flour is a dollar a pound, do you think it will be any higher?<br> +And to carry their blankets and sleep outdoors, it seemed so very droll!<br> +Both tired and mad, without a cent, they damned the lousy hole.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">A RIPPING TRIP<a id="footnotetag13" name="footnotetag13"></a><a href="#footnote13">[13]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a id="page407" name="page407"></a>(p. 407)</span></p> + +<p>You go aboard a leaky boat<br> +And sail for San Francisco,<br> +You've got to pump to keep her afloat,<br> +You've got that, by jingo!<br> +The engine soon begins to squeak,<br> +But nary a thing to oil her;<br> +Impossible to stop the leak,—<br> +Rip, goes the boiler.</p> + +<p>The captain on the promenade<br> +Looking very savage;<br> +Steward and the cabin maid<br> +Fightin' 'bout the cabbage;<br> +All about the cabin floor<br> +Passengers lie sea-sick;<br> +Steamer bound to go ashore,—<br> +Rip, goes the physic.</p> + +<p>Pork and beans they can't afford,<br> +The second cabin passengers;<br> +The cook has tumbled overboard<br> +With fifty pounds of sassengers;<br> +The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page408" name="page408"></a>(p. 408)</span> engineer, a little tight,<br> +Bragging on the Mail Line,<br> +Finally gets into a fight,—<br> +Rip, goes the engine.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE HAPPY MINER <span class="pagenum"><a id="page409" name="page409"></a>(p. 409)</span></p> + +<p>I'm a happy miner,<br> +I love to sing and dance.<br> +I wonder what my love would say<br> +If she could see my pants<br> +With canvas patches on my knees<br> +And one upon the stern?<br> +I'll wear them when I'm digging here<br> +And home when I return.</p> + + <p class="add1em">Refrain:<br> + So I get in a jovial way,<br> + I spend my money free.<br> + And I've got plenty!<br> + Will you drink lager beer with me?</p> + +<p>She writes about her poodle dog;<br> +But never thinks to say,<br> +"Oh, do come home, my honey dear,<br> +I'm pining all away."<br> +I'll write her half a letter,<br> +Then give the ink a tip.<br> +If that don't bring her to her milk<br> +I'll coolly let her rip.</p> + +<p>They wish to know if I can cook<br> +And what I have to eat,<br> +And <span class="pagenum"><a id="page410" name="page410"></a>(p. 410)</span> tell me should I take a cold<br> +Be sure and soak my feet.<br> +But when they talk of cooking<br> +I'm mighty hard to beat,<br> +I've made ten thousand loaves of bread<br> +The devil couldn't eat.</p> + +<p>I like a lazy partner<br> +So I can take my ease,<br> +Lay down and talk of golden home,<br> +As happy as you please;<br> +Without a thing to eat or drink,<br> +Away from care and grief,—<br> +I'm fat and sassy, ragged, too,<br> +And tough as Spanish beef.</p> + +<p>No matter whether rich or poor,<br> +I'm happy as a clam.<br> +I wish my friends at home could look<br> +And see me as I am.<br> +With woolen shirt and rubber boots,<br> +In mud up to my knees,<br> +And lice as large as chili beans<br> +Fighting with the fleas.</p> + +<p>I'll mine for half an ounce a day,<br> +Perhaps a little less;<br> +But when it comes to China pay<br> +I cannot stand the press.<br> +Like thousands there, I'll make a pile,<br> +If I make one at all,<br> +About the time the allied forces<br> +Take Sepasterpol.</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">THE CALIFORNIA STAGE COMPANY <span class="pagenum"><a id="page411" name="page411"></a>(p. 411)</span></p> + +<p>There's no respect for youth or age<br> +On board the California stage,<br> +But pull and haul about the seats<br> +As bed-bugs do about the sheets.</p> + + <p class="add1em">Refrain:<br> + They started as a thieving line<br> + In eighteen hundred and forty-nine;<br> + All opposition they defy,<br> + So the people must root hog or die.</p> + +<p>You're crowded in with Chinamen,<br> +As fattening hogs are in a pen;<br> +And what will more a man provoke<br> +Is musty plug tobacco smoke.</p> + +<p>The ladies are compelled to sit<br> +With dresses in tobacco spit;<br> +The gentlemen don't seem to care,<br> +But talk on politics and swear.</p> + +<p>The dust is deep in summer time,<br> +The mountains very hard to climb,<br> +And drivers often stop and yell,<br> +"Get out, all hands, and push up hill."</p> + +<p>The <span class="pagenum"><a id="page412" name="page412"></a>(p. 412)</span> drivers, when they feel inclined,<br> +Will have you walking on behind,<br> +And on your shoulders lug a pole<br> +To help them out some muddy hole.</p> + +<p>They promise when your fare you pay,<br> +"You'll have to walk but half the way";<br> +Then add aside, with cunning laugh,<br> +"You'll have to push the other half."</p> + + +<p class="tit-song">NEW NATIONAL ANTHEM <span class="pagenum"><a id="page413" name="page413"></a>(p. 413)</span></p> + +<p>My country, 'tis of thee,<br> +Land where things used to be<br> +So cheap, we croak.<br> +Land of the mavericks,<br> +Land of the puncher's tricks,<br> +Thy culture-inroad pricks<br> +The hide of this peeler-bloke.</p> + +<p>Some of the punchers swear<br> +That what they eat and wear<br> +Takes all their calves.<br> +Others vow that they<br> +Eat only once a day<br> +Jerked beef and prairie hay<br> +Washed down with tallow salves.</p> + +<p>These salty-dogs<a id="footnotetag14" name="footnotetag14"></a><a href="#footnote14">[14]</a> but crave<br> +To pull them out the grave<br> +Just one Kiowa spur.<br> +They know they still will dine<br> +On flesh and beef the time;<br> +But give us, Lord divine,<br> +One "hen-fruit stir."<a id="footnotetag15" name="footnotetag15"></a><a href="#footnote15">[15]</a></p> + +<p>Our father's land, with thee, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page414" name="page414"></a>(p. 414)</span><br> +Best trails of liberty,<br> +We chose to stop.<br> +We don't exactly like<br> +So soon to henceward hike,<br> +But hell, we'll take the pike<br> +If this don't stop.</p> + +<hr class="small"> + +<p><a id="footnote1" name="footnote1"></a> +<b>Footnote 1:</b> In this song, as in several others, the chorus should come +in after each stanza. The arrangement followed has been adopted +to illustrate versions current in different sections.<a href="#footnotetag1">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote2" name="footnote2"></a> +<b>Footnote 2:</b> Sung to the air of <i>My Bonnie Lies Over the +Ocean</i>.<a href="#footnotetag2">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote3" name="footnote3"></a> +<b>Footnote 3:</b> Attributed to James Barton Adams.<a href="#footnotetag3">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote4" name="footnote4"></a> +<b>Footnote 4:</b> Printed as a fugitive ballad in <i>Grandon of Sierra</i>, by Charles +E. Winter.<a href="#footnotetag4">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote5" name="footnote5"></a> +<b>Footnote 5:</b> A song current in Arizona, probably written by Berton Braley. +Cowboys and miners often take verses that please them and fit +them to music.<a href="#footnotetag5">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote6" name="footnote6"></a> +<b>Footnote 6:</b> These verses are used in many parts of the West as a dance +song. Sung to waltz music the song takes the place of "Home, +Sweet Home" at the conclusion of a cowboy ball. The "fiddle" +is silenced and the entire company sing as they dance.<a href="#footnotetag6">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote7" name="footnote7"></a> +<b>Footnote 7:</b> A lumber jack song adopted by the cowboys.<a href="#footnotetag7">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote8" name="footnote8"></a> +<b>Footnote 8:</b> This poem, one of the best in Larry Chittenden's <i>Ranch +Verses</i>, published by G.P. Putnam's Sons, New York, has been set +to music by the cowboys and its phraseology slightly changed, as +this copy will show, by oral transmission. I have heard it in +New Mexico and it has been sent to me from various places,—always +as a song. None of those who sent in the song knew +that it was already in print.<a href="#footnotetag8">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote9" name="footnote9"></a> +<b>Footnote 9:</b> "set" means settler.<a href="#footnotetag9">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote10" name="footnote10"></a> +<b>Footnote 10:</b> snake, bad steer.<a href="#footnotetag10">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote11" name="footnote11"></a> +<b>Footnote 11:</b> Dolly welter, rope tied all around the saddle.<a href="#footnotetag11">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote12" name="footnote12"></a> +<b>Footnote 12:</b> rim-fire saddle, without flank girth.<a href="#footnotetag12">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote13" name="footnote13"></a> +<b>Footnote 13:</b> To tune of <i>Pop Goes the Weasel</i>.<a href="#footnotetag13">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote14" name="footnote14"></a> +<b>Footnote 14:</b> Cowboy Dude.<a href="#footnotetag14">(Back)</a></p> + +<p><a id="footnote15" name="footnote15"></a> +<b>Footnote 15:</b> Pancake.<a href="#footnotetag15">(Back)</a></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cowboy Songs, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COWBOY SONGS *** + +***** This file should be named 21300-h.htm or 21300-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/3/0/21300/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net. 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