.k, .J; .3
>.^^
1* 1 t
..-■t.--^r
i . i- . -t
f . ■ I
'V):Vi'^
9HHI
COWBOY SONGS
AND OTHER FRONTIER BALLADS
COLLECTED BY
JOHN A. LOMAX, M.A.
THE UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS
SHELDON FELLOW FOR THE INVESTIGATION OF AMERICAN BALLADS,
HARVARD UNIVERSITY
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
BARRETT WENDELL
Bew lorft
STURGIS & WALTON
COMPANY
1910 All rights reserved
Coi)yri>,'ht 1910 By STURGIS & WALTON COMPANY
Set up and clcctrotypcd. Published November, 1910
t CU;>7820i
MR. THEODORE ROOSEVELT
WHO WHILE PRESIDENT WAS NOT TOO BUSY TO
TURN ASIDE— CHEERFULLY AND EFFECTIVELY—
AND AID WORKERS IN THE FIELD OF AMERICAN
BALLADRY, THIS VOLUME IS GRATEFULLY
DEDICATED
^^^ >^*2^; ^^ ^.^-e^r^ ^^C0^..^^ .».*.^u.ww cs c^A- cu«vs ^^i;^; c«^ '^ ^:^i^-..*--.»/a:x^ ^-^^X,
CONTENTS
PAGE
Arizona Boys and Girls, The 211
Bill Peters, the Stage Driver 100
Billy Venero 299
Bob Stanford 265
Bonnie Black Bess 194
Boozer, The 304
Boston Burglar, The 147
BuENA Vista Battlefield 34
Buffalo Hunters 185
Buffalo Skinners, The 158
Bull Whacker, The 69
By Markentura's Flowery Marge 224
(!)alifornia Joe I3g
Camp Fire Has Gone Out, The 322
Charlie Rutlage 267
Convict, The 290
Cole Younger 106
Cov^BOY, The 96
Cowboy at Church, The 246
Cowboy's Dream, The 18
Cowboy's Lament, The 74
Cowboy's Life, The 20
Cowboy's Meditation, The 297
Cowgirl, The 251
Cowman's Prayer, The 24
Crooked Trail to Holbrook, The 121
ix
Contents
PAGE
Dan Taylor . S*
Days of Forty-Nine, The 9
Disheartened Ranger, The 261
"Dogie Song 303
Dreary Black Hills, The i77
Dreary, Dreary Life, The 22,3
Drinking Song 305
Dying Cowboy, The 1 3
Dying Ranger, The 214
Fair Fannie Moore 219
Foreman Monroe i74
Fuller and Warren 126
t'RAGMENT, A 3o6
Fragment, A 3^9
Freighting from Wilcox to Globe 207
'Gol-Darned Wheel, The 190
Great Round-Up, The 282
Greer County 278
Hard Times 103
Harry Bale 172
Hell in Texas 222
Her White Bosom Bare 271
Home on the Range, A 39
Horse Wrangler, The 136
I'm a Good Old Rebel 94
Jack Donahoo 64
Jack o' Diamonds 292
Jerry, Go Ile that Car 112
Jesse James 27
Jim Farrow , . . , 22t7
Joe Bowers 15
John Garner's Trail Herd 114
Jolly Cowboy, The 284
X
Contents
PAGE
Juan Murray 276
Kansas Line, The 22
Lackey Bill 83
Last Longhorn, The 197
Kittle Joe, the Wrangler 167
Little Old Sod Shanty, The 187
Lone Buffalo Hunter, The 119
Lone Star Trail, The 310
Lo\T in Disguise 77
McCaffie's Confession ' . 164
Man Named Hods, A 307
Melancholy Cowboy, The 263
Metis Song of the Buffalo Hunters 72
Miner's Song, The 25
Mississippi Girls 108
Mormon Song 182
Mormon Bishop's Lament, The 47
Mustang Gray 79
Night-Herding Song 324
Old Chisholm Trail, The 58
Old Man Under the Hill, The no
Old Scout's Lament, The 117
Only a Cowboy 124
Poor Lonesome Cowboy 32
Prisoner for Life, A 200
Railroad Corral, The 318
Rambling Cowboy, The 244
Range Riders, The 269
Rattlesnake — A Ranch Haying Song 31S
Root Hog or Die 254
Rosin the Bow 280
Sam Bass i49
Shanty Boy, The 252
xi
Contents
PAGE
Sioux Indians 56
Skew-Ball Black, The 243
Song of the " Metis " Trapper, The 320
State of Arkansaw, The 226
Sweet Betsy from Pike 258
Tail Piece -26
Texas Cowboy, The 220
Texas Rangers ..
Trail to Mexico, The j^2
U. S. A. Recruit, The ^.^
249
Utah Carroll ^
Wars of Germany, The 204
Way Down in Mexico -,..
314
Westward Ho
When the Work is Done This Fall e,
Whoopee-Ti-Yi-Yo, Git along Little Dogies g7
U-S-U Range
• . . y^
Young Charlottie ^-^
Young Companions • • • . 81
Zebra Dun, The , ., . .. , j„ , j- .
Xll
INTRODUCTION
It is now four or five years since my atten- tion was called to the collection of native Amer- ican 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 encour- aging the work, as a real contribution both to litera- ture and to learning. The present volume is the first published result of these efforts.
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 disput- ing 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 impos- sible to be sure quite how they begun, and by quite iwhat means they sifted through the centuries into
xiii
Introduction
the forms at last securely theirs, In the final rigidit of print. In this collection of American ballads, a most if not quite uniquely, it is possible to trace tl precise manner in which songs and cycles of song - obviously analogous to those surviving from old( and antique times — have come into being. The facts which are still available concerning the ballad of our own Southwest are such as should go far t prove, or to disprove, many of the theories advance concerning the laws of literature as evinced in tl ballads of the old world.
Such learned matter as this, however, Is not s surely within my province, who have made no tecl nical study of literary origins, as is the other consi( eration which made me feel, from my first know edge of these ballads, that they are beyond dispui valuable and Important. In the ballads of the o\ world. It Is not historical or philological consider tions which most readers care for. It is the wonde ful, robust vividness of their artless yet supreme] true utterance; it is the natural vigor of their surgen unsophisticated human rhythm. It Is the sense, d rived one can hardly explain how, that here Is e pression straight from the heart of humanity; th: here Is something like the sturdy root from which tl finer, though not always more lovely, flowers ( polite literature have sprung. At times when v yearn for polite grace, ballads may seem rude; : times when polite grace seems tedious, sophisticate corrupt, or mendacious, their very rudeness refresh'
xlv
Introduction
us with a new sense of brimming life. To compare the songs collected by Professor Lx)max with the im- mortalities of olden time is doubtless like comparing the literature of America with that of all Europe to- gether. 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 whole- some and enduring pleasure as comes from work of this kind proved and acknowledged to be masterly. -
What I mean may best be implied, perhaps, by a brief statement of fact. Four or five years ago. Pro- fessor Lomax, at my request, read some of these bal- lads 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.
Barrett Wendell.
Nahant, Massachussetts,
July II, 1910.
XV
COLLECTOR'S NOTE
Out in the wild, far-away places of the big and still unpeopled west, — in the canons along the Rocky Mountains, among the mining camps of Ne^ vada 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 con- ditions of pioneer life, and more particularly because of the information they contain concerning that .unique and romantic figure in modern civilization, the American cowboy.
xvii
Collector's Note
The 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 track- less hills and plains of the long way. It also be- came 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.
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 con- sisted 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
xviii
Collector's Note
services. Society, then, was here reduced to Its low- est terms. The work of the men, their daily expe- riences, 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 " dogle songs " seem to have been created for the purpose of pre- venting cattle stampedes, — such songs coming straight from the heart of the cowboy, speaking familiarly to his herd in the stillness of the night. The long drives up the trail occupied months, and xlx
Collector's Note
called 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; The Road to Ruin, 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 dar- ing. 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.
A cow-camp In the seventies generally contained
XX
Collector's Note
several 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 con- siderable 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.
That the cowboy was brave has come to be axio- matic. 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
xxi
Collector's Note
Forty-NIners found their way to California. The cowboy has fought back the Indians ever since ranch- ing 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. Per- haps these songs, coming direct from the cowboy's experience, giving vent to his careless and his tender emotions, will afford future generations a truer con- ception of what he really was than is now possessed by those who know him only through highly colored romances.
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 un- poetic but more beefy and profitable Polled Angus, Durham, and Hereford cousins from across the seas.
xxii
Collector's Note
The 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 hand- kerchief 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 :
Whoopee tl yi, git along, little dogies ;
It's my misfortune and none of your own. Whoopee ti yi, git along, little dogies;
For you know Wyoming will be your new home.
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 hap-
xxili
Collector's Note
hazard way 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, ac- companied 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 moun- taineers, 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 dis- cover 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 Chlsholm 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 ad- jectives and nouns have been softened, — Jonahed, as George Meredith would have said. There Is, how-
xxiy
Collector's Note
ever, a 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.
It is entirely impossible to acknowledge the as- sistance 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. Bedlchek, 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 ren- dered me especially helpful service in furnishing ma- terial, for which I also render grateful thanks.
Among the negroes, rivermen, miners, soldiers, seamen, lumbermen, railroad men, and ranchmen of the United States and Canada there are many in- digenous folk-songs not Included In this volume. Of
xxv
Collector's Note
some 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.
J. A. L.
Deming, New Mexico,
August 8, 19 10.
3KV1
COWBOY SONGS
AND OTHER FRONTIER BALLADS
THE DYING COWBOY *
" /^ BURY me not on the lone prairie,"
V^ These words came low and mournfully From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On his dying bed at the close of day.
He had walled in pain till o'er his brow Death's shadows fast were gathering now; He thought of his home and his loved ones nigh As the cowboys gathered to see him die.
" O bury me not on the lone prairie Where the wild cayotes will howl o'er mc, In a narrow grave just six by three, O bury me not on the lone prairie.
" In fancy I listen to the well known words Of the free, wild winds and the song of the birds; I think of home and the cottage in the bower And the scenes I loved in my childhood's hour.
" It matters not, IVe oft been told,
Where the body lies when the heart grows cold;
Yet grant. Oh grant this wish to me,
O bury me not on the lone prairie.
* 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.
The Dying Cowboy
** O then bury me not on the lone prairie, In a narrow grave six foot by three, Where the buffalo paws o'er a prairie sea, O bury me not on the lone prairie.
" I've always wished to be laid when I died In the little churchyard on the green hillside; By my father's grave, there let mine be, And bury me not on the lone prairie
" Let my death slumber be where my mother's
prayer And a sister's tear will mingle there, Where my friends can come and weep o'er me; O bury me not on the lone prairie.
** O bury me not on the lone prairie
In a narrow grave just six by three.
Where the buzzard waits and the wind blows free;
Then bury me not on the lone prairie.
" There is another whose tears may be shed
For one who lies on a prairie bed;
It pained me then and it pains me now; —
She has curled these locks, she has kissed this brow.
" These locks she has curled, shall the rattlesnake
kiss? This brow she has kissed, shall the cold grave press ?
The Dying Cowboy
For the sake of the loved ones that will weep for me O bury me not on the lone prairie.
" O bury me not on the lone prairie Where the wild cayotes will howl o'er me, Where the buzzard beats and the wind goes free, O bury me not on the lone prairie.
" O bury me not," and his voice failed there, But we took no heed of his dying prayer; In a narrow grave just six by three We buried him there on the lone prairie,.
Where the dew-drops glow and the butterflies rest, And the flowers bloom o'er the prairie's crest; Where the wild cayote and winds sport free On a wet saddle blanket lay a cowboy-ee.
'* O bury me not on the lone prairie Where the wild cayotes will howl o'er me. Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the crow flies free O bury me not on the lone prairie."
O we buried him there on the lone prairie Where the wild rose blooms and the wind blows free, O his pale young face nevermore to see, — For wc buried him there on the lone prairie.
Yes, we buried him there on the lone prairie Where the owl all night hoots mournfully,
5
The Dying Cowhoy
And the blizzard beats and the winds blow free O^er his lowly grave on the lone prairie.
And the cowboys now as they roam the plain, — For they marked the spot where his bones were
lain, — Fling a handful of roses o'er his grave. With a prayer to Him who his soul will save.
" O bury mc not on the lone prairie Where the wolves can howl and growl o'er me; Fling a handful of roses o'er my grave With a prayer to Him who my soul will save."
The Dying Cowboy
$
PES^g
N N
K K--*-
"0 bu - ry me not on the lone prai - rie,"
i
L- ^
m
t^
iS
W
S
-<&-
S:
:^
^=^^^j^^^±:^
These words came low.
and mourn -ful - ly. . .
(I
N =^
^
h J h =J
:S==fs:
^
_#!=:3L
i
i=s
V-*r
^
^^
E
Prom the pal - lid lips
of a youth who lay
e
i-^-^
^ i
i-=
^
The Dying Cf^y^hoy— Concluded
t
s
(i
On his dy - ing bed
at the close of day.
^1
i-i-irxi
r—t-
^
I- ^ ^^
I
^^^^
-rt-
THE DAYS OF FORTY-NINE
WE are gazing now on old Tom Moore, A relic of bygone days ; 'TIs a bummer, too, they call me now, But what cares I for praise? It's oft, says I, for the days gone by, It's oft do I repine
For the days of old when we dug out the gold In those days of Forty-Nine.
My comrades they all loved me well,
The jolly, saucy crew;
A few hard cases, I will admit,
Though they were brave and true.
Whatever the pinch, they ne'er would flinch;
They never would fret nor whine.
Like good old bricks they stood the kicks
In the days of Forty-Nine.
There's old " Aunt Jess," that hard old cuss, Who never would repent; He never missed a single meal, Nor never paid a cent. But old " Aunt Jess," like all the rest. At death he did resign, And in his bloom went up the flume In the days of Forty-Nine.
9
The Days of Forty-Nine
There Is Ragshag Jim, the roaring man,
Who could out-roar a buffalo, you bet,
He roared all day and he roared all night.
And I guess he is roaring yet.
One night Jim fell in a prospect hole, —
It was a roaring bad design, —
And in that hole Jim roared out his soul
In the days of Forty-Nine.
There is Wylie Bill, the funny man,
Who was full of funny tricks.
And when he was in a poker game
He was always hard as bricks.
He would ante you a stud, he would play you a draw,
He'd go you a hatful blind, —
In a struggle with death Bill lost his breath
In the days of Forty-Nine.
There was New York Jake, the butcher boy,
Who was fond of getting tight.
And every time he got on a spree
He was spoiling for a fight.
One night Jake rampaged against a knife
In the hands of old Bob Sine,
And over Jake they held a wake
In the days of Forty-Nine.
There was Monte Pete, I'll ne'er forget
The luck he always had.
He would deal for you both day and night
10
The Days of Forty-Nine
Or as long as he had a scad.
It was a pistol shot that lay Pete out,
It was his last resign,
And it caught Pete dead sure in the door
In the days of Forty-Nine.
Of all the comrades that IVe had There's none that's left to boast, And I am left alone in my misery Like some poor wandering ghost. And as I pass from town to town, They call me the rambling sign. Since the days of old and the days of gold And the days of Forty-Nine.
II
Days of Forty-Nine
|
rr-± 1 |
K N- |
N^ |
K. |
|
|
\yi '^ N. h. |
N |
^ |
^ |
|
|
rm A ^ ^ |
^ ii d ' |
* |
r* s |
> |
|
\\y •* j^ _i^ |
J - -'._."■ 1 " 1 |
|||
|
g-^ ^ S S m You are gaz - ing now |
on ol( |
Tom Moore, |
A |
|
|
V \ |
1 |
|||
|
y *+ 1 |
•1 |
(A » |
K. |
rv n |
|
[£5r /I ' |
K 1 ' ," ! 1 |
|||
|
V-J 4- |
N N |
• |
^ d |
n ' |
|
-^-4- |
* |
|||
|
/i^« "i |
1 |
|||
|
tt^J. 4- -1 |
^ |
1 |
K 1 |
|
|
V^^ A ' |
^ |
i |
' i" 1 |
|
|
J^^ 4- |
1 |
J • 1 |
||
|
1^ |
^ |
5 •*• |
i
fe^
:S=it
^=1:
1-"— 1^
?#ti=^
rel - ic of by - gone days; 'Tis a bum-mer now they
I
^
tr^r
^
i=P:
XiJsr
^
^
^
^
* 5
i
y^=*^= (V
S^
^—^
:;^=^
call me,.. But what cares I for praise; It is
^
5=^=^^
g
^^
5^
1^ — d—^
Days of Forty-Nine— Ow/mw^r^
$
^
1^=:it^=t^=^
-r—r
-^ — ^-
V 1/ — ^-
of t, says I, for days gone by, It's oft do I re
^
^
r
*^
ffl
^=^
^==^
i
-N — R
f^-i^-^— g^zz^
^
'^^3.
-¥^-¥
K--N=-A-
V — ^-
-# — # +-
pine For those days of old when we dug out the gold, In the
(P
a
^
te^
^=^
^
U
P
^
i^=:S-^
i
K— -N--^-^-#
-# #-
^- #^ J
i5
of For - ty - nine, In those days of old when we
M
-^ h-
4^-: #- #-r-
■jJSia-
Days of Forty 'Mne— Concluded
i
*:
-^ — ^-
I
m^
^^*
dug out the gold, In the daya of For - ty - nine.
m
*
-M:
i
m
JOE BOWERS
MY name is Joe Bowers, I've got a brother Ike, I came here from Missouri, Yes, all the way from Pike. I'll tell you why I left there And how I came to roam. And leave my poor old mammy, So far away from home.
I used to love a gal there, Her name was Sallie Black, I asked her for to marry me. She said It was a whack. She says to me, " Joe Bowers, Before you hitch for life. You ought to have a little home To keep your little wife."
Says I, " My dearest Sallie, O Sallie, for your sake, I'll go to California And try to raise a stake.'* Says she to me, " Joe Bowers, You are the chap to win, Give me a kiss to seal the bargain,"- And I throwed a dozen in. 15
Joe Bowers
I'll never forget my feelings
When I bid adieu to all.
Sal, she cotched me round the neck
And I began to bawl.
When I begun they all commenced,
You never heard the like,
How they all took on and cried
The day I left old Pike.
When I got to this here country
I hadn't nary a red,
I had such wolfish feelings
I wished myself most dead.
At last I went to mining,
Put in my biggest licks.
Came down upon the boulders
Just like a thousand bricks.
I worked both late and early In rain and sun and snow, But I was working for my Sallie So 'twas all the same to Joe. I made a very lucky strike As the gold itself did tell. For I was working for my Sallie, The girl I loved so well.
But one day I got a letter From my dear, kind brother Ike ; It came from old Missouri, Yes, all the way from Pike. i6
Joe Bowers
It told' me the goldarndest news That ever you did hear, My heart it is a-bustin* So please excuse this tear.
rU tell you what it was, boys, You'll bust your sides I know ; For when I read that letter You ought to seen poor Joe. My knees gave 'way beneath mc, And I pulled out half my hair; And if you ever tell this now, You bet you'll hear me swear.
It said my Sallie was fickle,
Her love for me had fled.
That she had married a butcher,
Whose hair was awful red;
It told me more than that.
It's enough to make me swear, —
It said that Salhe had a baby
And the baby had red hair.
Now I've told you all that I can tell About this sad affair, 'Bout Sallie marrying the butcher And the baby had red hair. But whether it was a boy or girl The letter never said, It only said its cussed hair Was inclined to be red. 17
THE COWBOY'S DREAM *
LAST night as I lay on the prairie, And looked at the stars in the sky, I wondered if ever a cowboy Would drift to that sweet by and by.
Roll on, roll on;
Roll on, little dogies, roll on, roll on,
Roll on, roll on;
Roll on, little dogies, roll on.
The road to that bright, happy region Is a dim, narrow trail, so they say; But the broad one that leads to perdition Is posted and blazed all the way.
They say there will be a great round-up, And cowboys, like dogies, will stand. To be marked by the Riders of Judgment Who are posted and know every brand.
I know there's many a stray cowboy Who'll be lost at the great, final sale. When he might have gone in the green pastures Had he known of the dim, narrow trail.
* Sung to the air of My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.
i8
The Cowboy's Dream
I wonder if ever a cowboy Stood ready for that Judgment Day, And could say to tRe Boss of the Riders, Fm ready, come drive me away."
For they, like the cows that are locoed. Stampede at the sight of a hand, Are dragged with a rope to the round-up. Or get marked with some crooked man's brand.
And Fm scared that Til be a stray yearling, — A maverick, unbranded on high, — And get cut in the bunch with the " rustics " When the Boss of the Riders goes by.
For they tell of another big owner Whose ne'er overstocked, so they say, But who always makes room for the sinner Who drifts from the straight, narrow way.
They say he will never forget you. That he knows every action and look; So, for safety, you'd better get branded, Have your name in the great Tally Book.
19
THE COWBOY'S LIFE *
THE bawl of a steer, To a cowboy's ear, Is music of sweetest strain; And the yelping notes Of the gray cayotes To him are a glad refrain.
And his jolly songs
Speed him along,
As he thinks of the little gal
With golden hair
Who is waiting there
At the bars of the home corral.
For a kingly crown
In the noisy town
His saddle he wouldn't change;
No life so free
As the life we see
Way out on the Yaso range.
His eyes are bright
And his heart as light
As the smoke of his cigarette;
There's never a care
♦Attributed to James Barton Adams.
20
The Cowboy's Life
For his soul to bear,
No trouble to make him fret.
The rapid beat
Of his broncho's feet
On the sod as he speeds along,
Keeps living time
To the ringing rhyme
Of his rollicking cowboy song.
Hike it, cowboys,
For the range away
On the back of a bronc of steel,
With a careless flirt
Of the raw-hide quirt
And a dig of a roweled heel I
The winds may blow
And the thunder growl
Or the breezes may safely moan;
A cowboy's life
Is a royal life.
His saddle his kingly throne.
Saddle up, boys.
For the work is play
When love's in the cowboy's eyes,-
When his heart is light
As the clouds of white
That swim in the summer skies..
21
THE KANSAS LINE
COME all you jolly cowmen, don't you want to go Way up on the Kansas line? Where you whoop up the cattle from morning till
night All out in the midnight rain.
The cowboy's life Is a dreadful life,
He's driven through heat and cold;
I'm almost froze with the water on my clothes,
A-ridIn' through heat and cold.
I've been where the llghtnin', the llghtnin' tangled
in my eyes. The cattle I could scarcely hold; Think I heard my boss man say: " I want all brave-hearted men who ain't afraid to
die To whoop up the cattle from morning till night, Way up on the Kansas line."
Speaking of your farms and your shanty charms,
Speaking of your silver and gold, —
Take a cowman's advice, go and marry you a true
and lovely little wife. Never to roam, always stay at home ;
22
The Kansas Line
That's a cowman's, a cowman's advice, Way up on the Kansas line.
Think I heard the noisy cook say,
" Wake up, boys, it's near the break of day," —
Way up on the Kansas line.
And slowly we will rise with the sleepy feeling eyes,
Way up on the Kansas line.
The cowboy's life Is a dreary, dreary life, All out In the midnight rain; I'm almost froze with the water on my clothes, Way up on the Kansas line.
23
THE COWMAN'S PRAYER
NOW, O Lord, please lend me thine ear, The prayer of a cattleman to hear, No doubt the prayers may seem strange. But I want you to bless our cattle range.
Bless the round-ups year by year. And don't forget the growing steer; Water the lands with brooks and rills For my cattle that roam on a thousand hills.
Prairie fires, won't you please stop ? Let thunder roll and water drop. It frightens me to see the smoke ; Unless it's stopped, I'll go dead broke.
As you, O Lord, my herd behold.
It represents a sack of gold;
I think at least five cents a pound
Will be the price of beef the year around.
One thing more and then I'm through, — Instead of one calf, give my cows two. I may pray different from other men But I've had my say, and now. Amen.
24
THE MINER'S SONG *
IN a rusty, worn-out cabin sat a broken-hearted leaser, His singlejack was resting on his knee. His old " buggy " in the corner told the same old
plaintive tale, His ore had left in all his poverty. He lifted his old singlejack, gazed on its battered
face. And said: ^' Old boy, I know weVe not to blame; Our gold has us forsaken, some other path it's taken, But I still believe we'll strike it just the same.
" We'll strike it, yes, we'll strike it just the same,
Although It's gone into some other's claim.
My dear old boy don't mind it, we won't starve
if we don't find it, And we'll drill and shoot and find it just the same.
*' For forty years I've hammered steel and tried to
make a strike, I've burned twice the powder Custer ever saw. I've made just coin enough to keep poorer than a
snake. My jack's ate all my books on mining law.
* Printed as a fugitive ballad in Grandon of Sierra, by Charles E. Winter.
25
The Miner^s Song
IVe worn gunny-sacks for overalls, and * California
socks,' I've burned candles that would reach from here to
Maine, I've lived on powder, smoke, and bacon, that's no
lie, boy, I'm not fakin'. But I still believe we'll strike It just the same.
" Last night as I lay sleeping In the midst of all my
dream My assay ran six ounces clear in gold, And the silver it ran clean sixteen ounces to the
seam, And the poor old miner's joy could scarce be told. I lay there, boy, I could not sleep, I had a feverish
brow, Got up, went back, and put In six holes more. And then, boy, I was chokin' just to see the ground
I'd broken; But alas I alas I the miner's dream was o'er.
" We'll strike It, yes, we'll strike It just the same,
Although It's gone Into some other's claim.
My dear old boy, don't mind it, we won't starve
if we don't find It, And I still believe I'll strike It just the same."
26
JESSE JAMES
JESSE JAMES was a lad that killed a-many a man; He robbed the Danville train. But that dirty little coward that shot Mr. Howard Has laid poor Jesse in his grave.
Poor Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life,
Three children, they were brave.
But that dirty little coward that shot Mr.
Howard Has laid poor Jesse In his grave.
It was Robert Ford, that dirty little coward,
I wonder how he does feel,
For he ate of Jesse's bread and he slept in Jesse's bed,
Then laid poor Jesse in his grave.
Jesse was a man, a friend to the poor.
He never would see a man suffer pain ;
And with his brother Frank he robbed the Chicago
bank, And stopped the Glendale train.
It was his brother Frank that robbed the Gallatin
bank. And carried the money from the town ; It was in this very place that they had a little race, For they shot Captain Sheets to the ground.
lesse James
They went to the crossing not very far from there, And there they did the same ;
With the agent on his knees, he delivered up the keys To the outlaws, Frank and Jesse James.
It was on Wednesday night, the moon was shining
bright, They robbed the Glendale train; The people they did say, for many miles away, It was robbed by Frank and Jesse James.
It was on Saturday night, Jesse was at home Talking with his family brave, Robert Ford came along hke a thief in the night And laid poor Jesse in his grave.
The people held their breath when they heard of
Jesse's death. And wondered how he ever came to die. It was one of the gang called little Robert Ford, He shot poor Jesse on the sly.
Jesse went to his rest with his hand on his breast;
The devil will be upon his knee.
He was born one day in the county of Clay
And came from a solitary race.
This song was made by Billy Gashade, As soon as the news did arrive; He said there was no man with the law In his hand Who could take Jesse James when alive.
28
Jesse James
A K-
^=^i=i
■A — ^ — ^ — ^
g>-4-
-N — :T
K^^^ — ^ — Pv
-# # 0-
James was a lad that killed a-ma-ny a
■M:
^-
-^-
§
m
^
^^—d-
man: He robbed the Dan - ville train:
fei
But that
f^^
L J ._i
^
^ tt
t
h=^
—N — ^-
dirt - y lit - tie cow - ard that shot Mis - ter
m
Jesse 3&mes— Continued
N N A
iE=llVziit
f^^=£3^
m
9 *-
How - ard
-(S?— r-
laid poor Jes - se in the grave.
fe
I
l===i
S — •r
1
m
Refrain.
i^
^
-/I ft y - # JE
^ U P-
Poor Jes - se had a wife to mourn for his life.
W3,
1
S
g
r^
^^
^
i
Three chil - dren, they were brave;
But that
^ •-
T
m
'^=^
s-
Jesse James— Concluded
^^
^
EE
dir - ty lit - tie cow - ard That shot Mis - ter
$
m
m
-=r
i
N N ^
i^
i
F=t
How- ard Has laid poor
1^
se in the grave.
mm
^
POOR LONESOME COWBOY
I AIN'T got no father, I ain't got no father, I ain't got no father. To buy the clothes I wear.
I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy, I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy, I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy And a long ways from home.
I ain't got no mother,
I ain't got no mother,
I ain't got no mother
To mend the clothes I wear.
I ain't got no sister, I ain't got no sister, I ain't got no sister To go and play with me.
I ain't got no brother, I ain't got no brother, I ain't got no brother To drive the steers with me.
d^
Poor Lonesome Cowboy
I ain*t got no sweetheart, I ain't got no sweetheart, I ain't got no sweetheart To sit and talk with me.
I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy, I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy, I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy And a long ways from home.
3Z
BUENA yiSTA BATTLEFIELD
ON Bucna Vista battlefield A dying soldier lay, His thoughts were on his mountain home Some thousand miles away. He called his comrade to his side, For much he had to say, In briefest words to those who were Some tliousand miles away.
*' My father, comrade, you will tell About this bloociy fray; My country's flag, you'll say to him, Was sate with me to-day. T make a pillow of it now On which to lay my head, A winding sheet you'll make of it When I am with the dead.
** I know 'twill grieve his Inmost soul To think I never more Will sit with him beneath the oak That shades the cottage door; But tell that time-worn patriot. That, mindful of his fame, Upon this bloody battlefield I sullied not his name.
34
Buena Vista Battlefield
" My mother's form is with me now, Her will is in my ear, And drop by drop as flows my blood So flows from her the tear. And oh, when you shall tell to her The tidings of this day. Speak softly, comrade, softly speak What you may have to say.
** Speak not to her in blighting words The blighting news you bear, The cords of life might snap too soon, So, comrade, have a care. I am her only, cherished child, But tell her that I died Rejoicing that she taught me young To take my country's side.
" But, comrade, there's one more, She's gentle as a fawn; She lives upon the sloping hill That overlooks the lawn. The lawn where I shall never more Go forth with her in merry mood To gather wild-wood flowers.
** Tell her when death was on my brow And life receding fast. Her looks, her form was with me then, Were with me to the last.
35
Buena Vista Battlefield
On Buena Vista's bloody field Tell her I dying lay, And that I knew she thought of me Some thousand miles away."
36
.WESTWARD HO
I LOVE not Colorado Where the faro table grows, And down the desperado The rippling Bourbon flows;
Nor seek I fair Montana
Of bowle-lunging fame;
The pistol ring of fair Wyoming
I leave to nobler game.
Sweet poker-haunted Kansas
In vain allures the eye;
The Nevada rough has charms enough
Yet its blandishments I fly.
Shall Arizona woo me Where the meek Apache bides? Or New Mexico where natives grov/ With arrow-proof insides?
Nay, 'tis where the grizzlies wander
And the lonely diggers roam,
And the grim Chinese from the squatter flees
That I'll make my humble home.
I'll chase the wild tarantula And the fierce cayote I'll dare,
^1
Home on the Range— Continued
i
^
^ IS' -^
^
lizzi:
f^ — !V
3t=i[
^:=^=±^
And the skies are not cloud - y all day.
I
-^ — ^-
f
^
=t-
^
Refrain
1^:^
±zf-j-M:
^--^-^-N--^
B:
^■^^zf-r^ti^-
-^-4^4
3t;
zjs-ii
f-^0^
Home,home on the range, Where the deer and the antelope play;
^^
A=Js:
kl
^-^
-«-v
P^^
fz:zh:±=M:
-0 — N
i--u^
1 ^
li^-it
^^^d:. "^
I
RF=^
:a=:=?^
-^ — ^■
> J i<
:^ R
Where sel- dom is heard a dis-cour - ag - ing word
^^=
-N— :^
^
m¥=i
^
—J —
f
Home on the Range— Concluded
te
-jtzj.
-($*— I-
1
And the skies are not cloud - y all day.
m
-y^ ^.
^l=S
4
*:
^
--i
i
TEXAS RANGERS ;
GOME, all you Texas rangers, wherever you :
may be, ;
I'll tell you of some troubles that happened unto me. ■
My name Is nothing extra, so It I will not tell, — '
And here's to all you rangers, I am sure I wish you :
well. I
It was at the age of sixteen that I joined the jolly I
band, !
We marched frcfm San Antonio down to the Rio
Grande. i
Our captain he Informed us, perhaps he thought It i
right, I
'* Before we reach the station, boys, you'll surely have •
to fight." j
And when the bugle sounded our captain gave com- [
mand, '
*' To arms, to arms," he shouted, " and by your \
horses stand."
I saw the smoke ascending. It seemed to reach the '
sky; i
The first thought that struck me, my time had come i
to die. i
I saw the Indians coming, I heard them give the yell ; My feelings at that moment, no tongue can ever tell.
44
Texas Rangers
I saw the glittering lances, their arrows round me
flew, And all my strength It left me and all my courage too.
We fought full nine hours before the strife was o'er, The like of dead and wounded I never saw before. And when the sun was rising and the Indians they
had fled. We loaded up our rifles and counted up our dead.
And all of us were wounded, our noble captain slain. And the sun was shining sadly across the bloody
plain. Sixteen as brave rangers as ever roamed the West Were buried by their comrades with arrows In their
breast.
'Twas then I thought of mother, who to me In tears
did say, " To you they are all strangers, with me you had
better stay." I thought that she was childish, the best she did not
know; My mind was fixed on ranging and I was bound
to go.
Perhaps you have a mother, likewise a sister too. And maybe you have a sweetheart to weep and mourn for you;
45
Texas Rangers
If that be your situation, although you'd like to roam, i
I'd advise you by experience, you had better stay at i
home. ' {
I have seen the fruits of rambling, I know Its hard- ;
ships well ; . \
I have crossed the Rocky Mountains, rode down the 1
streets of hell;
I have been In the great Southwest where the wild ;
Apaches roam, ^
And I tell you from experience you had better stay \
at home. ;
And now my song is ended; I guess I have sung enough ; i
The life of a ranger I am sure Is very tough.
And here's to all you ladles, I am sure I wish you well,
I am bound to go a-ranging, so ladles, fare you well.
46
THE MORMON BISHOP'S LAMENT
I AM a Mormon bishop and I will tell you what I know. I joined the confraternity some forty years ago. I then had youth upon my brow and eloquence my
tongue, But I had the sad misfortune then to meet with Brigham Young.
He said, " Young man, come join our band and bid
hard work farewell. You are too smart to waste your time in toil by hill
and dell; There is a ripening harvest and our hooks shall find
the fool And in the distant nations we shall train them in
our school,"
I listened to his preaching and I learned all the role, And the truth of Mormon doctrines burned deep
within my soul. I married sixteen women and I spread my new belief, I was sent to preach the gospel to the pauper and
the thief.
'Twas In the glorious days when Brigham was our only Lord and King, 47
The Mormon Bishop's Lament \
And his wild cry of defiance from the Wasatch tops j
did ring.
'Twas when that bold Bill Hickman and that I
Porter Rockwell led, I
And In the blood atonements the pits received the i
dead. !
i
They took In Dr. Robertson and left him in his '
gore, And the Aiken brothers sleep in peace on Nephi's
distant shore. We marched to Mountain Meadows and on that
glorious field ' With rifle and with hatchet we made man and
woman yield.
*Twas there we were victorious with our legions !
fierce and brave. ;
We left the butchered victims on the ground without I
a grave. I
We slew the load of emigrants on Sublet's lonely ;
road ;
And plundered many a trader of his then most pre- j
clous load. I
Alas for all the powers that were In the by-gone \
time. !
What we did as deeds of glory are condemned as ;
bloody crime. I
48
The Mormon Bishop's Lament
No more the blood atonements keep the doubting
one In fear, While the faithful were rewarded with a wedding
once a year.
As the nation's chieftain president says our days of
rule are o'er And his marshals with their warrants are on watch
at every door, Old John he now goes skulking on the by-roads of
our land. Or unknown he keeps In hiding with the faithful of
our band.
Old Brigham now is stretched beneath the cold and
silent clay, And the chieftains now are fallen that were mighty
In their day; Of the six and twenty women that I wedded long
ago There are two now left to cheer me In these awful
hours of woe. The rest are scattered where the Gentile's flag's
unfurled And two score of my daughters are now numbered
with the world.
Oh, my poor old bones are aching and my head is turning gray;
49
The Mormon Bishop's Lament
Oh, the scenes were black and awful that IVe wit- nessed In my day.
Let my spirit seek the mansion where old Brigham's gone to dwell,
For there's no place for Mormons but the lowest pits of hell.
50
DAN TAYLOR
DAN TAYLOR Is a rollicking cuss, A frisky son of a gun, He loves to court the maidens And he savies how it's done.
He used to be a cowboy And they say he wasn't slow, He could ride the bucking bronco And swing the long lasso.
He could catch a maverick by the head Or heel him on the fly, He could pick up his front ones Whenever he chose to try.
He used to ride most anything; Now he seldom will. He says they cut some caper In the air Of which he's got his fill.
He Is done and quit the business, Settled down to quiet life. And he's hunting for some maiden Who will be his little wife, —
51
Dan Taylor
One who will wash and patch his britches \ And feed the setting hen,
Milk old Blue and Brindy, : And tend to baby Ben.
Then he'll build a cozy cottage ]
And furnish it complete, ^
He'll decorate the walls inside ■
With pictures new and sweet. j
He will leave off riding broncos i
And be a different man; j
He will do his best to please his wife \
In every way he can. .
Then together in double harness i
They will trot along down the line,
Until death shall call them over i
To a bright and sunny clime.
i
May your joys be then completed
And your sorrows have amend, '
Is the fondest wish of the writer, — \
Your true and faithful friend. \
i
52
WHEN WORK IS DONE THIS FALL
A GROUP of jolly cowboys, discussing plans at ease, Says one, " I'll tell you something, boys, If you will
listen, please. I am an old cow-puncher and here I'm dressed In
rags, And I used to be a tough one and take on great big jags.
" But I've got a home, boys, a good one, you all
know. Although I have not seen It since long, long ago. I'm going back to Dixie once more to see them all; Yes, I'm going to see my mother when the work's
all done this fall.
" After the round-ups are over and after the ship- ping is done,
I am going right straight home, boys, ere all my money is gone.
I have changed my ways, boys, no more will I fall ;
And I am going home, boys, when work is done this fall.
'' When I left home, boys, my mother for me cried. Begged me not to go, boys, for me she would have died;
53
JFhcn TFork Is Done This Fall
My mother's heart Is breaking, breaking for me,
that's all, And with God's help I'll see her when the work's all
done this fall."
That very night this cowboy went out to stand his
guard ; The night was dark and cloudy and storming very
hard; The cattle they got frightened and rushed in wild
stampede. The cowboy tried to head them, riding at full speed.
While riding in the darkness so loudly did he shout, Trying his best to head them and turn the herd about. His saddle horse did stumble and on him did fall. The poor boy won't see his mother when the work's all done this fall.
His body was so mangled the boys all thought him : dead, |
They picked him up so gently and laid him on a bed ; ;
He opened wide his blue eyes and looking all : around j
He motioned to his comrades to sit near him on the j ground.
*' Boys, send mother my wages, the wages I have
earned. For Tm afraid, boys, my last steer I have turned.
54
When Work Is Done This Fall
I'm going to a new range, I hear my Master's call, And I'll not see my mother when the work's all done this fall.
"Fred, you take my saddle; George, you take my
bed; Bill, you take my pistol after I am dead. And think of me kindly when you look upon them
all. For I'll not see my mother when work is done this
fall."
Poor Charlie was burled at sunrise, no tombstone at
his head. Nothing but a little board and this Is what It said, ** Charlie died at daybreak, he died from a fall. And he'll not see his mother when the work's all
done this fall."
55
SIOUX INDIANS
I'LL sing you a song, though it may be a sad one, Of trials and troubles and where they first begun ; I left my dear kindred, my friends, and my home, Across the wild deserts and mountains to roam.
I crossed the Missouri and joined a large train Which bore us over mountain and valley and plain; And often of evenings out hunting we'd go To shoot the fleet antelope and wild buffalo.
iWe heard of Sioux Indians all out on the plains A-killing poor drivers and burning their trains, — A-killing poor drivers with arrows and bow, When captured by Indians no mercy they show.
We traveled three weeks till we came to the Platte And pitched out our tents at the end of the flat, We spread down our blankets on the green grassy
ground. While our horses and mules were grazing around.
While taking refreshment we heard a low yell. The whoop of Sioux Indians coming up from the dell ; We sprang to our rifles with a flash in each eye, " Boys," says our brave leader, " we'll fight till we die."
56
Sioux Indians
They made a bold dash and came near to our train And the arrows fell around us like hail and like rain, But with our long rifles we fed them cold lead Till many a brave warrior around us lay dead.
We shot their bold chief at the head of his band. He died like a warrior with a gun in his hand. When they saw their bold chief lying dead in his
gore, They whooped and they yelled and we saw them no
more.
With our small band, — there were just twenty- four, —
And the Sioux Indians there were five hundred or more, —
We fought them with courage ; we spoke not a word,
Till the end of the battle was all that was heard.
We hitched up our horses and we started our train; Three more bloody battles this trip on the plain; And in our last battle three of our brave boys fell, And we left them to rest in a green, shady dell.
57
c
THE OLD CniSIIOLM TRAIL
OINIE along, boys, and listen to my tale, rU tell you of my troubles on the old Chls- holm trail.
Coma ti yl youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya.
I started up the trail October tvventy-third, I started up the trail with the 2-U herd.
Oh, a ten dollar boss and a forty dollar saddle, — And I'm goin' to punchin' Texas cattle.
I woke up one morning on the old Chisholm trail, Rope in my hand and a cow by the tail.
I'm up in the mornin' afore daylight And afore I sleep the moon shines bright.
Old Ben Bolt was a blamed good boss.
But he'd go to see the girls on a sore-backed hoss.
Old Ben Bolt was a fine old man And you'd know there was whiskey wherever he'd land.
58
The Old Chisholm Trail
My hoss throwed me off at the creek called Mud, My hoss throwed me off round the 2-U herd.
Last time I saw him he was going cross the level A-kicking up his heels and a-running like the devil.
It's cloudy in the West, a-looking like rain,
And my damned old slicker's in the wagon again.
Crippled my hoss, I don't know how, Ropin' at the horns of a 2-U cow.
We hit Caldwell and we hit her on the fly, We bedded down the cattle on the hill close by.
No chaps, no slicker, and it's pouring down rain, And I swear, by god, I'll never night-herd again.
Feet in the stirrups and seat in the saddle,
I hung and rattled with them long-horn cattle.
Last night I was on guard and the leader broke the
ranks, I hit my horse down the shoulders and I spurred him
in the flanks.
The wind commenced to blow, and the rain began to
fall. Hit looked, by grab, like wc was goin' to loss 'em all.
59
The Old Chisholm Trail j
i
I jumped In the saddle and grabbed holt the horn, ' Best blamed cow-puncher ever was born. i
I popped my foot In the stirrup and gave a little yell, | iThe tall cattle broke and the leaders went to hell. \
I don't give a damn if they never do stop; i
I'll ride as long as an eight-day clock. |
Foot In the stirrup and hand on the horn, ]
Best damned cowboy ever was born. i
I herded and I hollered and I done very well, i
Till the boss said, *' Boys, just let 'cm go to hell."
Stray In the herd and the boss said kill it, \
So I shot him In the rump with the handle of the : skillet.
We rounded 'em up and put 'em on the cars,
And that was the last of the old Two Bars. ]
Oh it's bacon and beans most every day, — i
I'd as soon be a-eatin' prairie hay. \
1 I'm on my best horse and I'm goln' at a run, 1
I'm the quickest shootin' cowboy that ever pulled a I
gun.
I went to the wagon to get my roll. To come back to Texas, dad-burn my soul.
60
:
The Old C his holm Trail
I went to the boss to draw my roll,
He had It figgered out I was nine dollars in the hole.
I'll sell my outfit just as soon as I can, I won't punch cattle for no damned man.
Goin' back to town to draw my money, Goln' back home to see my honey.
With my knees in the saddle and my seat in the sky, I'll quit punching cows in the sweet by and by.
Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya, Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya.
6i
The Old Chisholm Trail
ftv — ^ — (V
_N N S V
f,f±=:^-=t=i
-A — N PS N-
• — • 0 •-
at=i:
Come a - long, boys, and list - en to my tale, I'l
m
^feiE^
^ PS
^-I^-
4< Ps — P — n
^ tt
-V N-
1=^
i
^ ^ — ^^ ^ N N-
^
-^ — ^-
-PS S N ^
iPS— iN-
-^
-0 • 0—0-
-0 0-
tell you of my trou-
on the old Chisholm trail.
¥=t
;s
M^
& — ^
;»— ♦
♦^^
-^-»
m
p
i
Rbfkain
p
-^. — ^
/v — FS K
S
-• — 0
-^— A-
M — 'i
.^ — ^.
Co- ma ti yi you - pe, you - pe ya, you - pe ya,
&=5:
i^^
m
m
^^
-=1:
The Old Chisholm Trail— Concluded
i
s
-^ ^
s
^J^=^ — fc— ^
£
^
(I
Co - ma ti yi you - pe, you
pe ya.
H — ^
i
lit
:^(=:
4
I 1
JACK DONAHOO
GOME, all you bold, undaunted men, You outlaws of the day, It's time to beware of the ball and chain And also slavery. Attention pay to what I say, And verily if you do, I will relate you the actual fate Of bold Jack Donahoo.
He had scarcely landed, as I tell you, 1
Upon Australia's shore, ;
Than he became a real highwayman, .
As he had been before. \ There was Underwood and Mackerman,
And Wade and Westley too, ;
These were the four associates I
Of bold Jack Donahoo. \
Jack Donahoo, who was so brave, Rode out that afternoon, Knowing not that the pain of death Would overtake him soon. So quickly then the horse police From Sidney came to view ; " Begone from here, you cowardly dogs," Says bold Jack Donahoo. 64
Jack Donahoo
The captain and the sergeant
Stopped then to decide.
*' Do you intend to fight us
Or unto us resign? "
" To surrender to such cowardly dogs
Is more than I will do,
This day I'll fight If I lose my life,"
Says bold Jack Donahoo.
The captain and the sergeant
The men they did divide ;
They fired from behind him
And also from each side;
It's six police he did shoot down
Before the fatal ball
Did pierce the heart of Donahoo
And cause bold Jack to fall.
And when he fell, he closed his eyes. He bid the world adieu; Come, all you boys, and sing the song Of bold Jack Donahoo.
65
UTAH CARROLL ;
AND as, my friend, you ask me what makes me ; sad and still,
And why my brow is darkened like the clouds upon !
the hill ; '
Run in your pony closer and I'll tell to you the tale ■ Of Utah Carroll, my partner, and his last ride on the
trail. J
j ■1
'Mid the cactus and the thistles of Mexico's fair '
lands, I Where the cattle roam in thousands, a-many a herd
and brand.
There is a grave with neither headstone, neither date !
nor name, —
There lies my partner sleeping in the land from which j
I came. 1
We rode the range together and had rode it side by >
side;
I loved him as a brother, I wept when Utah died; j
We were rounding up one morning, our work was I
almost done, i When on the side the cattle started on a mad and
fearless run. j
The boss man's little daughter was holding on that i
side. \
66
Utah Carroll
She rushed; the cattle saw the blanket, they charged
with maddened fear. And little Varro, seeing the danger, turned her pony
a pace And leaning in the saddle, tied the blanket in Its
place.
In leaning, she lost her balance and fell in front of
that wild tide. Utah's voice controlled the round-up. " Lay still,
little Varro," he cried. His only hope was to raise her, to catch her at full
speed. And oft-times he had been known to catch the trail
rope off his steed.
His pony reached the maiden with a firm and steady
bound; Utah swung out from the saddle to catch her from
the ground. He swung out from the saddle, I thought her safe
from harm. As he swung in his saddle to raise her in his arm.
But the cinches of his saddle had not been felt before. And his 1: ack cinch snapt asunder and he fell by the
side of Varro. He picked up the blanket and swung it over his head And started across the prairie ; " Lay still, little
Varro," he said.
67
Utah Carroll j
Well, he got the stampede turned and saved little
Varro, his friend. j
Then he turned to face the cattle and meet his fatal !
end. I
His six-shooter from his pocket, from the scabhard :
he quickly drew, — '
He was bound to die defended as all young cowboys !
do. {
His six-shooter flasheti like lightning, the report rang i
loud and clear ; i
As the cattle rushed in and killed him he dropped , the leading steer.
And when we broke the circle where Utah's body lay, j
With many a wound and bruise his young life ebbed |
away. I
I
'* And in some future morning," I heard the preacher |
say, i *' I hope we'll all meet Utah at the round-up far
away.'* j
Then we wrapped him in a blanket sent by his little 1
friend, And it was that very red blanket that brought him
to his end.
68
THE BULL- WHACKER
I'M a lonely bull-whacker On the Red Cloud line, T can lick any son of a gun That will yoke an ox of mine. And if I can catch him, You bet I will or try, I'd lick him with an ox-bow,— Root hog or die.
It's out on the road
With a very heavy load,
With a very awkward team
And a very muddy road.
You may whip and you may holler,
But if you cuss it's on the sly;
Then whack the cattle on, boys, —
Root hog or die.
It's out on the road These sights are to be seen, The antelope and buffalo. The prairie all so green, — The antelope and buffalo. The rabbit jumps so high ; It's whack the cattle on, boys,— Root hog or die.
69
The BulUWhacker
It's every day at twelve There's something for to do; And if there's nothing else, There's a pony for to shoe; I'll throw him down, And still I'll make him lie; Little pig, big pig, Root hog or die.
Now perhaps you'd like to know
What we have to eat,
A little piece of bread
And a little dirty meat,
A little black coffee.
And whiskey on the sly;
It's whack the cattle on, boys, —
Root hog or die.
There's hard old times on Bitter Creek
That never can be beat,
It was root hog or die
Under every wagon sheet;
We cleaned up all the Indians,
Drank all the alkali.
And it's whack the cattle on, boys, —
Root hog or die.
There was good old times in Salt Lake That never can pass by, It was there I first spied My China girl called Wl, 70
n i
The Bull-Whacker
She could smile, she could chuckle, She could roll her hog eye; Then It's whack the cattle on, boys,- Root hog or die.
Oh, I'm going home Bull-whacking for to spurn, I ain't got a nickel, And I don't give a dern. 'Tis when I meet a pretty girl. You bet I will or try, I'll make her my little wife, — Root hog or die.
71
THE '' METIS '' SONG OF THE BUFFALO HUNTERS
H
BY ROBIDEAU i
')
i
URRAH for the buffalo hunters! ]
Hurrah for the cart brigade ! j
That creak along on its winding way, i
While we dance and sing and play. j
Hurrah, hurrah for the cart brigade I \
Hurrah for the Pembinah hunters!
Hurrah for its cart brigade ! ;
'For with horse and gun we roll along \
O'er mountain and hill and plain. I
Hurrah, hurrah for the cart brigade! |
\
We whipped the Sioux and scalped them too, ^
While on the western plain. And rode away on our homeward way
With none to say us nay, — Hurrah, hurrah for the cart brigade ! Hurrah I
Mon ami, mon ami, hurrah for our black-haired girls! That braved the Sioux and fought them too, While on Montana's plains.
We'll hold them true and love them too, 72
The " Metis '' Song of the Buffalo Hunters
While on the trail of the Pembinah, hurrah I
Hurrah, hurrah for the cart brigade of Pem- binah I
We have the skins and the meat so sweet.
And we'll sit by the fire in the lodge so neat, While the wind blows cold and the snow is deep.
Then roll in our robes and laugh as we sleep. Hurrah, hurrah for the cart brigade! Hurrah I Hurrah I Hurrah I
73
THE COWBOY'S LAMENT
AS I walked out In the streets of Laredo, As I walked out in Laredo one day, I spied a poor cowboy wrapped up in white linen, Wrapped up in white linen as cold as the clay.
" Oh, beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly, Play the Dead March as you carry me along; Take me to the green valley, there lay the sod
o'er me, For Vm a young cowboy and I know IVe done wrong.
" I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy," These words he did say as I boldly stepped by. ** Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story; I was shot in the breast and I know I must die.
** Let sixteen gamblers come handle my coffin, Let sixteen cowboys come sing me a song, Take me to the graveyard and lay the sod o'er me, For I'm a poor cowboy and I know I've done wrong.
" My friends and relations, they live In the Nation, They know not where their boy has gone. He first came to Texas and hired to a ranchman, Oh, I'm a young cowboy and I know Fve done wrong.
74
The Cowboy's Lament
" Go write a letter to my gray-haired mother,
And carry the same to my sister so dear;
But not a word of this shall you mention
When a crowd gathers round you my story to hear.
" Then beat your drum lowly and play your fife slowly,
Beat the Dead March as you carry me along;
We all love our cowboys so young and so hand- some,
We all love our cowboys although they've done wrong.
" There is another more dear than a sister, She'll bitterly weep when she hears I am gone. There is another who will win her affections, For I'm a young cowboy and they say I've done wrong.
" Go gather around you a crowd of young cowboys, And tell them the story of this my sad fate; Tell one and the other before they go further To stop their wild roving before 'tis too late.
"Oh, muffle your drums, then play your fifes mer- rily; Play the Dead March as you go along. And fire your guns right over my coffin; There goes an unfortunate boy to his home.
75
The Cowboy's Lament
" It was once in the saddle I used to go dashing, It was once in the saddle I used to go gay ; First to the dram-house, then to the card-house, Got shot in the breast, I am dying to-day.
" Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin; Get six pretty maidens to bear up my pall. Put bunches of roses all over my coffin, Put roses to deaden the clods as they fall.
" Then swing your rope slowly and rattle your spurs
lowly. And give a wild whoop as you carry me along; And in the grave throw me and roll the sod o'er
me. For I'm a young cowboy and I know IVe done
wrong.
*' Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water, To cool my parched lips," the cowboy said; Before I turned, the spirit had left him And gone to its Giver, — the cowboy was dead.
We beat the drum slowly and played the fife
lowly, And bitterly wept as we bore him along; For we all loved our comrade, so brave, young,
and handsome, We all loved our comrade although he'd done
wrong.
76
LOVE IN DISGUISE
AS William and Mary stood by the seashore Their last farewell to take, Returning no more, little Mary she said, " Why surely my heart will break." ** Oh, don't be dismayed, httle Mary," he said, As he pressed the dear girl to his side, " In my absence don't mourn, for when I return I'll make httle Mary my bride."
Three years passed on without any news.
One day as she stood by the door
A beggar passed by with a patch on his eye,
"I'm home, oh, do pity, my love;
Have compassion on me, your friend I will be.
Your fortune I'll tell besides.
The lad you mourn will never return
To make little Mary his bride."
She startled and trembled and then she did say, '' All the fortune I have I freely give If what I ask you will tell unto me, — Say, does young William yet live? " " He lives and Is true and poverty poor, And shipwreck has suffered beside; He'll return no more, because he Is poor, To make little Mary his bride."
77
Love in Disguise
" No tongue can tell the joy I do feel
Although his misfortune I mourn,
And he's welcome to me though poverty poor,
His jacket all tattered and torn.
I love him so dear, so true and sincere,
I'll have no other beside;
Those with riches enrobed and covered with gold
Can't make little Mary their bride."
The beggar then tore the patch from his eye,
His crutches he laid by his side,
Coat, jacket and bundle; cheeks red as a rose,
'Twas William that stood by her side.
*' Then excuse me, dear maid," to her he said,
" It was only your love I tried."
So he hastened away at the close of the day
To make little Mary his bride.
78
MUSTANG GRAY
THERE once was a noble ranger, They called him Mustang Gray; He left his home when but a youth, Went ranging far away.
But he'll go no more a-ranging, The savage to affright; He has heard his last war-whoop, And fought his last fight.
He ne'er would sleep within a tent, No comforts would he know; But like a brave old Tex-i-an, A-ranging he would go.
When Texas was invaded
By a mighty tyrant foe.
He mounted his noble war-horse
And a-ranging he did go.
Once he was taken prisoner, Bound in chains upon the way, He wore the yoke of bondage Through the streets of Monterey.
A senorita loved him, And followed by his side; 79
Mustang Gray
She opened the gates and gave to him Her father's steed to ride.
God bless the senorlta,
The belle of Monterey,
She opened wide the prison door
And let him ride away.
And when this veteran's life was spent,
It was his last command
To bury him on Texas soil
On the banks of the Rio Grande ;
And there the lonely traveler, When passing by his grave, Will shed a farewell tear O'er the bravest of the brave.
And he'll go no more a-ranging. The savage to affright; He has heard his last war-whoop, And fought his last fight
80
YOUNG COMPANIONS
COME all you young companions And listen unto me, I'll tell you a story Of some bad company.
I was born In Pennsylvania Among the beautiful hills And the memory of my childhood Is warm within me still.
I did not like my fireside, I did not like my home; I had In view far rambling, So far away did roam.
I had a feeble mother,
She oft would plead with me;
And the last word she gave me Was to pray to God in need.
I had two loving sisters, As fair as fair could be, And oft beside me kneeling They oft would plead with mc.
I bid adieu to loved ones, To my home I bid farewell, 8i
Young Companions
And I landed In Chicago In the very depth of hell.
It was there I took to drinking, I sinned both night and day, And there within my bosom A feeble voice would say :
" Then fare you well, my loved one, May God protect my boy, And blessings ever with him Throughout his manhood joy."
I courted a fair young maiden, Her name I will not tell, For I should ever disgrace her Since I am doomed for hell.
It was on one beautiful evening. The stars were shining bright, And with a fatal dagger I bid her spirit flight.
So justice overtook me, You all can plainly see. My soul is doomed forever Throughout eternity.
It's now Tm on the scaffold. My moments are not long; You may forget the singer But don't forget the song. 82
LACKEY BILL
COME all you good old boys and listen to my rhymes, We are west of Eastern Texas and mostly men of
crimes ; Each with a hidden secret well smothered In his breast, Which brought us out to Mexico, way out here in the West.
My parents raised me tenderly, they had no child
but me, Till I began to ramble and with them could never
agree. My mind being bent on rambling did grieve their poor
hearts sore, To leave my aged parents them to see no more.
I was horned and raised In Texas, though never come
to fame, A cowboy by profession, C. W. King, by name. Oh, when the war was ended I did not like to work. My brothers were not happy, for I had learned to
shirk.
In fact I was not able, my health was very bad, I had no constitution, I was nothing but a lad. I had no education, I would not go to school. And living off my parents I thought It rather cool.
83
Lackey Bill \\
:)
So I set a resolution to travel to the West,
My parents they objected, but still I thought it best, ji
It was out on the Seven Rivers all out on the Pecos
stream, I
It was there I saw a country I thought just suited me.
I thought I would be no stranger and lead a civil \
life. In order to be happy would choose myself a wife. i
On one Sabbath evening in the merry month of May To a little country singing I happened there to stray.
It was there I met a damsel I never shall forget, .
The impulse of that moment remains within me yet. We soon became acquainted, I thought she would fill . the bill, '
She seemed to be good-natured, which helps to chmb
the hill. . ?
\i
She was a handsome figure though not so very tall; ' Her hair was red as blazes, I hate it worst of all. I saw her home one evening in the presence of her
I bid them both good evening with a note left In her , lap.
And when I got an answer I read It with a rush, I found she had consented, my feelings was a hush. But now I have changed my mind, boys, I am sure I wish her well.
84
Lackey Bill
Here's to that precious jewel, I'm sure I wish her well.
This girl was Miss Mollle Walker who fell in love
with me, She was a lovely Western girl, as lovely as could be. She was so tall, so handsome, so charming and so
fair. There Is not a girl In this whole world with her I
could compare.
She said my pockets would be lined with gold, hard
work then I'd leave o'er If I'd consent to live with her and say Td roam no
more. My mind began to ramble and It grieved my poor
heart sore. To leave my darling girl, her to see no more.
I asked If It made any difference If I crossed o'er the
plains; She said It made no difference If I returned again. So we kissed, shook hands, and parted, I left that
girl behind. She said she'd prove true to me till death proved her
unkind.
I rode In the town of Vagus, all In the public square; The mall coach had arrived, the post boy met me there.
85
Lackey Bill |!
He handed me a letter that gave me to understand That the girl I loved in Texas had married another man.
So I read a little farther and found those words were
true. I turned myself all around, not knowing what to do. ' I'll sell my horse, saddle, and bridle, cow-driving I'll i
resign, I'll search this world from town to town for the girl ■
I left behind.
Here the gold I find in plenty, the girls to me are
kind. But my pillow is haunted with the girl I left behind, i It's trouble and disappointment is all that I can see, For the dearest girl in all the world has gone square ^
back on me. '
86
WHOOPEE TI YI YO, GIT ALONG LITTLE DOGIES
AS I walked out one morning for pleasure, I spied a cow-puncher all riding alone; His hat was throwed back and his spurs was a
jingling, As he approached me a-singin' this song,
Whoopee ti yi yo, git along little dogies, It's your misfortune, and none of my own. Whoopee ti yl yo, git along little dogies, For you know Wyoming will be your new home.
Early in the spring we round up the dogies, Mark and brand and bob off their tails; Round up our horses, load up the chuck-wagon. Then throw the dogies upon the trail.
It*s whooping and yelling and driving the dogies;
Oh how I wish you would go on ;
It's whooping and punching and go on little
dogies, For you know Wyoming will be your new home.
Some boys goes up the trail for pleasure, But that's where you get it most awfully wrong; For you haven't any idea the trouble they give us While we go driving them all along.
87
Whoopee Ti Yi Yo, Git Along Little Dogies
When the night comes on and we hold them on the
bedground, These httle dogies that roll on so slow; Roll up the herd and cut out the strays, And roll the little dogies that never rolled before.
Your mother she was raised way down in Texas, Where the jimson weed and sand-burrs grow; Now we'll fill you up on prickly pear and cholla Till you are ready for the trail to Idaho.
Oh, you'll be soup for Uncle Sam's Injuns; " It's beef, heap beef," I hear them cry. Git along, git along, git along little dogies You're going to be beef steers by and by.
88
Whoopee Ti Yi Yo, Git Along Little Dogies
i
— IS PS N-
i
d S S
was a - walk-ing one morn - ing for pleasure,
As I
I
-N — N-
-hl
X--A-* Pv— K ^ — ^— ' ^— fV* — ^— K «-
?-
-P -«-
feihfi:
->, — =}-
-N-^=1 =1-
A ^
&
I
:t!^=]^=f^:
-N — ^-
Jt=^
I spied a cow- punch- er all rid - ing a - lone;
I
■*r-fr-^?> — &-N
g-jy*\,M<
(|i
-^1 5^
A — ^
=1:
-N — ^ — 4!!f=:i|!^
N — ^
—Pi gi F\ h^ H H h
-,^ — ^.^v
-#- -#-
His hat was throw'd back and his spurs was a - jing - lin',
;a_^^.^
fc1^=i
^li^-*-:^
- -5 — ^ \— ^v-* — N~K^ (—
^
-d^^
A — n-
':l:
Whoopee TI Yi Yo, Qit Along Little Dogles—Continued
I
:t^=1^
I
As he ap-proach'd me a - sing - in' this song:
^3=r%^
^-^-'-^^-
i
i
s
1?
Refrain.
-A \— I
-^ ^
N PS-
0 — 0 — ^ ^» ^
--u; — k-
-^ — e^
rtt
■k i/l-
-^^ ^
Whoopee ti yi yo, git a - long lit - tie
$
A==f^
^ 1 1 ^-=l-=l-
=^^
-t==^
m
^^
m
1 1
1 1
-=i— =1-
i:
1:1^:^
V U k
Its your mis - for - tune and none of my own.
m
-A-^— =; N — n-
^^-
m^
^
^- &^ ^
m
1 *i
Whoopee Ti Yi Yo, Git Along Little Dories— Concluded
$
^S
-^ — ^
-^-^i=^:^
iN— ^S-
-0 0-
-^
Whoop - ee ti yi yo, git a - long lit - tie dog
^^^^^^^
For you know Wy - o - ming will be your new home.
m^
i
-=; — ^
-=1 ^ N =1 sj-
—^ -I -^ ^
1=^
s
THE U-S-U RANGE
OCOME cowboys and listen to my song, I'm in hopes I'll please you and not keep you long; I'll sing you of things you may think strange About West Texas and the U-S-U range.
You may go to Stamford and there see a man Who wears a white shirt and Is asking for hands; You may ask him for work and he'll answer you
short, He will hurry you up, for he wants you to start. He will put you In a wagon and be off in the rain. You will go up on Tongue River on the U-S-U range.
You will drive up to the ranch and there you will
stop. It's a little sod house with dirt all on top. You will ask what it is and they will tell you out
plain That it's the ranch house on the U-S-U range.
You will go in the house and he will begin to explain; You will see some blankets rolled up on the floor; You may ask what it is and they will tell you out
plain That it is the bedding on the U-S-U range.
92
The U'S-U Range
You are up in the morning at the daybreak To eat cold beef and U-S-U steak, And out to your work no matter If It's rain, — And that is the life on the U-S-U range.
You work hard all day and come in at night, And turn your horse loose, for they say it's all right. And set down to supper and begin to complain Of the chuck that you eat on the U-S-U range.
The grub that you get is beans and cold rice And U-S-U steak cooked up very nice ; And if you don't like that you needn't complain, For that's what you get on the U-S-U range.
Now, kind friends, I must leave you, I no longer can
remain, I hope I have pleased you and given you no pain. But when I am gone, don't think me strange, For I have been a cow-puncher on the U-S-U range.
93
I'M A GOOD OLD REBEL ] 1
1 ,
OH, Tm a good old rebel, that's what I am ; And for this land of freedom, I don't care a damn,
I'm glad I fought agin her, I only wish we'd won, j
And I don't axe any pardon for anything I've done. !
I served with old Bob Lee, three years about, ;
Got wounded in four places and starved at Point i
Lookout ; !
I caught the rheumatism a-campin' in the snow, \
But I killed a chance of Yankees and wish I'd killed \
some mo'. j
For I'm a good old rebel, etc.
I hate the constitooshin, this great republic too; • i
I hate the mouty eagle, an' the uniform so blue;
I hate their glorious banner, an' all their flags an'
fuss,
Those lyin', thievin' Yankees, I hate 'em wuss an' ;
wuss. ■
For I'm a good old rebel, etc. |
i
I won't be re-constructed I I'm better now than j
them; j
94 ^
Vm a Good Old Rebel
And for a carpet-bagger, I don't give a damn ; So Pm off for the frontier, soon as I can go, ril prepare me a weapon and start for Mexico.
For Fm a good old rebel, etc.
95
THE COWBOY -j
I
ALL day long on the prairies I ride, 1
Not even a dog to trot by my side; j
My fire I kindle with chips gathered round, j
My coffee I boll without being ground. '
I wash In a pool and wipe on a sack; \
I carry my wardrobe all on my back; |
For want of an oven I cook bread In a pot, "\
And sleep on the ground for want of a cot. <
My celling is the sky, my floor Is the grass, j
My music Is the lowing of the herds as they pass; .
My books are the brooks, my sermons the stones, I
My parson Is a wolf on his pulpit of bones. |
And then If my cooking Is not very complete- j You can't blame me for wanting to eat.
But show me a man that sleeps more profound ;
Than the big puncher-boy who stretches himself on |
the ground. j
My books teach me ever consistence to prize, \
My sermons, that small things I should not despise; j
My parson remarks from his pulpit of bones 1
That fortune fav^ors those who look out for their |
own. j
96 \
The Cowboy
And then between me and love lies a gulf very wide. Some lucky fellow may call her his bride. My friends gently hint I am coming to grief, But men must make money and women have beef.
But Cupid is always a friend to the bold,
And the best of his arrows are pointed with gold.
Society bans me so savage and dodge
That the Masons would ball me out of their lodge.
If I had hair on my chin, I might pass for the goat
That bore all the sins In the ages remote;
But why it Is I can never understand.
For each of the patriarchs owned a big brand.
Abraham emigrated in search of a range. And when water was scarce he wanted a change; Old Isaac owned cattle in charge of Esau, And Jacob punched cows for his father-in-law.
He started in business way down at bed rock,
And made quite a streak at handling stock;
Then David went from night-herding to using a
sling; And, winning the battle, he became a great king. Then the shepherds, while herding the sheep on a
hill, Got a message from heaven of peace and goodwill.
97
The Cowboy
Music by the " Kid
P
^
f=f=f:
V--
=#— ^ — ^
■V—-U, — bl
V — \/ — ^
f/ — f^
All day on the prai- rie in the sad - die I ride,
1^^
m
3=n
1
^— j:
^^1
?
-=ir
^
§
^
--f=f^
■V — k-
U' 1/
f"-- LV U k
Not e - ven a dog, boys, to trot by my side.
$
^E^
N — ^^
^ r g -|g- r r r
5 — \y — ^-1 L^ I'' ix I
-• 0 #-
V--
-^ — k-
My fire I must kin - die with chips gathered round.
m
^
It a g^
gy T II
3
^=H
^
v-^
The Cov^boy— Concluded
t=t
=P=f=
i
And boil my own cof - fee with - out be - ing ground.
^=i.
^^
I 7 1 i^H
^^
?
^P
I wash in a pool and I wipe on a sack,
:^
T% — r^f=^=^
^=}^
i
^
5
car - ry my ward - robe all on my back.
r?=f
I
BILL PETERS, THE STAGE DRIVER
BILE PETERS was a hustler From Independence town; He warn't a college scholar Nor man of great renown, But Bin had a way o' doing things And doln' 'em up brown.
Bill drlv the stage from Independence
Up to the Smokey Hill;
And everybody knowed him thar
As Independence Bill, —
Thar warn't no feller on the route
That drlv with half the skill.
BUI drlv four pair of horses,
Same as you'd drive a team,
And you'd think you was a-travelln*
On a railroad drlv by steam;
And he'd git thar on time, you bet,
Or BUI 'u'd bust a seam.
He carried mall and passengers,
And he started on the dot.
And them teams o' his'n, so they say,
Was never known to trot;
But they went It In a gallop
And kept their axles hot.
100
Bill Peters, The Stage Driver
When Bill's stage 'u'd bust a tire, Or something 'u'd break down, He'd hustle round and patch her up And start off with a bound; And the wheels o' that old shack o' his Scarce ever touched the ground.
And Bill didn't low no foolin', And when Inguns hove in sight And bullets rattled at the stage, He druv with all his might; He'd holler, '' Fellers, give 'em hell, I ain't got time to fight."
Then the way them wheels 'u'd rattle.
And the way the dust 'u'd fly,
You'd think a million cattle.
Had stampeded and gone by;
But the mail 'u'd get thar just the same,
If the horses had to die.
He driv that stage for many a year Along the Smokey Hill, And a pile o' wild Comanches Did Bill Peters have to kill, — And I reckon if he'd had good luck He'd been a drivin' still.
But he chanced one day to run agin A bullet made o' lead,
IQI
Bill Peters, The Stage Driver
Which was harder than he bargained for And now poor Bill is dead; And when they brung his body home A barrel of tears was shed.
1 02
HARD TIMES
COME listen a while and I'll sing you a song Concerning the times — it will not be long — When everybody Is striving to buy, And cheating each other, I cannot tell why, — And it's hard, hard times.
From father to mother, from sister to brother, From cousin to cousin, they're cheating each other. Since cheating has grown to be so much the fashion, I believe to my soul It will run the whole Nation, — And it's hard, hard times.
Now there Is the talker, by talking he eats, And so does the butcher by killing his meats. He'll toss the steelyards, and weigh It right down. And swear it's just right if it lacks forty pounds, — And it's hard, hard times.
And there is the merchant, as honest, we're told. Whatever he sells you, my friend, you are sold; Believe what I tell you, and don't be surprised To find yourself cheated half out of your eyes, — And it's hard, hard times.
103
Hard Times
And there is the lawyer you plainly will see, He will plead your case for a very large fee, He'll law you and tell you the wrong side is right. And make you believe that a black horse is white,- And it's hard, hard times.
And there is the doctor, I like to forgot, I believe to my soul he's the worst of the lot ; He'll tell you he'll cure you for half you possess. And when you're buried he'll take all the rest, — And it's hard, hard times.
And there's the old bachelor, all hated with scorn, He's like an old garment all tattered and torn. The girls and the widows all toss him a sigh, And think it quite right, and so do I, — And it's hard, hard times.
And there's the young widow, coquettish and shy, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye, But when she gets married she'll cut quite a dash. She'll give him the reins and she'll handle the cash,- And it's hard, hard times.
And there's the young lady I like to have missed. And I believe to my soul she'd like to be kissed; She'll tell you she loves you with all pretence And ask you to call again some time hence, — And it's hard, hard times.
104
Hard Times
And there's the young man, the worst of the whole. Oh, he will tell you with all of his soul, He'll tell you he loves you and for you will die, And when he's away he will swear it's a lie, — And it's hard, hard times.
105
COLE YOUNGER
I AM one of a band of highwaymen, Cole Younger is my name ; My crimes and depredations have brought my friends
to shame; The robbing of the Northfield Bank, the same I
can't deny, For now I am a prisoner, in the Stillwater jail I He.
'TIs of a bold, high robbery, a story to you I'll tell.
Of a California miner who unto us befell;
We robbed him of his money and bid him go his
way. For which I will be sorry until my dying day.
And then we started homeward, when brother Bob
did say: " Now, Cole, we will buy fast horses and on them
ride away. We will ride to avenge our father's death and try to
win the prize; We will fight those anti-guerrillas until the day we
die."
And then we rode towards Texas, that good old j
Lone Star State, I
But on Nebraska's prairies the James boys we did J
meet; 'I
io6 ^
Cole Younger
With knives, guns, and revolvers we all sat down to
play, A-drinking of good whiskey to pass the time away.
A Union Pacific railway train was the next wc did surprise,
And the crimes done by our bloody hands bring tears into my eyes.
The engineerman and fireman killed, the conductor escaped alive,
And now their bones lie mouldering beneath Ne- braska's skies.
Then we saddled horses, northwestward we did go, To the God-forsaken country called Min-ne-so-te-o ; I had my eye on the Northfield bank when l^rother
Bob did say, " Now, Cole, if you undertake the job, you will
surely curse the day."
But I stationed out my pickets and up to the bank
did go. And there upon the counter I struck my fatal blow. " Just hand us over your money and make no further
delay, We are the famous Younger brothers, we spare no
time to pray.'*
107
MISSISSIPPI GIRLS
GOME, all you Mississippi girls, and listen to my noise, If you happen to go West, don't you marry those
Texian boys; For If you do, your fortune will be Cold jonny-cake and beefsteak, that's all that you will
see, — Cold jonny-cake and beefsteak, that's all that you will see.
When they go courting, here's what they wear : An old leather coat, and It's all ripped and tore; And an old brown hat with the brim tore down, And a pair of dirty socks, they've worn the winter round.
When one comes In, the first thing you hear Is, " Madam, your father has killed a deer "; And the next thing they say when they sit down Is, *' Madam, the jonny-cake is too damned brown."
They live In a hut with hewed log wall, But it ain't got any windows at all; With a clap-board roof and a puncheon floor. And that's the w^ay all Texas o'er.
io8
Mississippi Girls
They will take you out on a live-oak hill
And there they will leave you much against your will.
They will leave you on the prairie, starve you on the
plains, For that is the way with the Texians, — For that is the way with the Texians.
When they go to preaching let me tell you how they
dress ; Just an old black shirt without any vest. Just an old straw hat more brim than crown And an old sock leg that they wear the winter
round, — And an old sock leg that they wear the winter
round.
For your wedding supper, there'll be beef and corn- bread; There it is to eat when the ceremony's said. And when you go to milk you'll milk into a gourd; And set it in the corner and cover it with a board; Some gets little and some gets none, For that is the way with the Texians, — For that is the way with the Texians.
109
THE OLD MAN UNDER THE HILL
THERE was an old man who lived under the hill, Chlr-u-ra-wee, lived under the hill, And if he ain't dead he's living there still, Chir-u-ra-wee, living there still.
One day the old man w^ent out to plow, Chir-u-ra-wee, went out to plow; 'Tis good-bye the old fellow, and how are you now, Sing chir-u-ra-wee, and how are you now.
And then another came to his house, Chir-u-ra-wee, came to his house; '' There's one of your family I've got to have now, Sing chir-u-ra-wee, got to have now.
*' It's neither you nor your oldest son, Chir-u-ra-wee, nor your oldest son." " Then take my old woman and take her for fun, Sing chir-u-ra-wee, take her for fun."
He takened her all upon his back, Chir-u-ra-wee, upon his back. And like an old rascal went rickity rack. Sing chir-u-ra-wee, went rickity rack.
But when he got half way up the road, Chir-u-ra-wee, up the road,
no
The Old Man Under the Hill
Says he, " You old lady, you're sure a load," Sing chlr-u-ra-wee, you're sure a load.
He set her down on a stump to rest, Chir-u-ra-wee, stump to rest; She up with a stick and hit him her best. Sing chir-u-ra-wee, hit him her best,
He taken her on to hell's old gate, Chir-u-ra-wec, hell's old gate, But when he got there he got there too late, Sing chir-u-ra-wee, got there too late.
And so he had to keep his wife, Chir-u-ra-wee, had to keep his wife, And keep her he did for the rest of his life, Sing chlr-u-ra-wee, for the rest of his life.
Ill
JERRY, GO ILE THAT CAR
GOME all ye railroad section men an' listen to my song, It is of Larry O'Sullivan who now is dead and gone. For twinty years a section boss, he niver hired a
tar — Oh, it's *' j'int ahead and cinter back, An' Jerry, go ile that car ! "
For twinty years a section boss, he niver hired a tar. But it's " j'int ahead an cinter back, An' Jerry, go ile that car-r-r I "
For twinty years a section boss, he worked upon the
track. And be it to his cred-i-it he niver had a wrack. For he kept every j'int right up to the p'int wid the
tap of the tampin-bar-r-r ; And while the byes was a-swimmin' up the ties, It's *' Jerry, wud yez ile that car-r-r I "
God rest ye, Larry O'Sullivan, to me ye were kind
and good; Ye always made the section men go out and chop me
wood; An' fetch me wather from the well an' chop me
kindlin' fine;
112
Jerry, Go He that Car
And any man that wouldn't lind a hand, 'twas Larry give him his Time.
And ivery Sunday mornl-I-ing unto the gang he'd say: " Me byes, prepare — yez be aware the ould lady
goes to church the day. Now, I want ivery man to pump the best he can, for
the distance it is far-r-r; An^ we have to get in ahead of number tin — So, Jerry, go an' ile that car-r-r I "
'Twas in November In the winter time and the
ground all covered wid snow, *' Come put the hand-car-r-r on the track an' over
the section go! " Wid his big soger coat buttoned up to his tVoat, all
weathers he would dare — An' it's " Paddy Mack, will yez walk the track, An' Jerry, go an' ile that car-r-r I "
*' Give my respects to the roadmas-ther," poor Larry
he did cry, " An lave me up that I may see the ould hand-car
before I die. Come, j'int ahead an' cinter back, An' Jerry, go an' ile that car-r-r ! "
Then lay the spike maul upon his chist, the gauge,
and the ould claw-bar-r-r, And while the byes do be fillin' up his grave, " Oh, Jerry, go an' ile that car-r-r! "
113
JOHN GARNER'S TRAIL HERD
COME all you old timers and listen to my song; I'll make it short as possible and I'll not keep you long; I'll relate to you about the time you all remember
well When we, with old Joe Garner, drove a beef herd up the trail.
When we left the ranch it was early in the spring. We had as good a corporal as ever rope did swing, Good hands and good horses, good outfit through
and through,- — We went well equipped, we were a jolly crew.
We had no little herd — two thousand head or more —
And some as wild a brush beeves as you ever saw be- fore.
We swung to them all the way and sometimes by the tail, —
Oh, you know we had a circus as we all went up the trail.
All things went on well till we reached the open
ground. And then them cattle turned in and they gave us
merry hell.
114
John Garner's Trail Herd
They stampeded every night that came and did it
without fail, — Oh, you know we had a circus as we all went up the trail.
We would round them up at morning and the boss
would make a count, And say, " Look here, old punchers, we are out quite
an amount; You must make all losses good and do it without
fail Or you will never get another job of driving up the
trail."
When we reached Red River we gave the Inspector
the dodge. He swore by God Almighty, in jail old John should
lodge. We told him if he'd taken our boss and had him
locked In jail. We would shore get his scalp as we all came down
the trail.
When we reached the Reservation, how squirmlsh
we did feel. Although we had tried old Garner and knew him
true as steel. And if we would follow him and do as he said do, That old bald-headed cow-thief would surely take
us through.
115
John Garner's Trail Herd
When we reached Dodge City we drew our four
months' pay. Times was better then, boys, that was a better day. The way we drank and gambled and threw the girls
around, — " Say, a crowd of Texas cowboys has come to take
our town."
The cowboy sees many hardships although he takes
them well; The fun we had upon that trip, no human tongue
can tell. The cowboy's life is a dreary life, though his mind
it is no load. And he always spends his money like he found it in
the road.
If ever you meet old Garner, you must meet him on
the square. For he is the biggest cow-thief that ever tramped out
there. But if you want to hear him roar and spin a lively
tale. Just ask him about the time we all went up the trail.
ii6
fTHE OLD SCOUT'S LAMENT
COME all of you, my brother scouts, And join me in my song; Come, let us sing together Though the shadows fall so long.
Of all the old frontiersmen That used to scour the plain. There are but very few of them
That with us yet remain.
•
Day after day they're dropping off, They're going one by one; Our clan is fast decreasing, Our race is almost run.
There were many of our number That never wore the blue, But, faithfully, they did their part, As brave men, tried and true.
They never joined the army. But had other work to do In piloting the coming folks. To help them safely through.
But, brothers, we are falling. Our race is almost run; 117
The Old Scout's Lament j
The days of elk and buffalo |
And beaver traps are gone. ;
Oh, the days of elk and buffalo 1 '■
It fills my heart with pain j
To know these days are past and gone j
To never come again. \
j
We fought the red-skin rascals j
Over valley, hill, and plain; i
We fought him In the mountain top, '
And fought him down again. |
These fighting days are over;
The Indian yell resounds 1
No more along the border; [
Peace sends far sweeter sounds. \
But we found great joy, old comrades, To hear, and make It die; We won bright homes for gentle ones, And now, our West, good-bye.
ii8
THE LONE BUFFALO HUNTER
IT'S of those Texas cowboys, a story I'll tell ; No name I will mention though in I'exas they do dwell. Go find them where you will, they are all so very
brave, And when in good society they seldom misbehave.
When the fall work is all over in the line-camp they'll
be found, For they have to ride those lonesome lines the long
winter round; They prove loyal to a comrade, no matter what's to
do; And when in love with a fair one they seldom prove
untrue.
But springtime comes at last and finds them glad and
gay;
They ride out to the round-up about the first of May; About the first of August they start up the trail, They have to stay with the cattle, no matter rain or hail.
But when they get to the shipping point, then they
receive their tens, Straightway to the bar-room and gently blow them
in;
119
The Lone Buffalo Hunter ^
It's the height of their ambition, so Fve been truly
told,
To ride good horses and saddles and spend the sil- :
ver and gold. |
Those last two things IVe mentioned, it is their j
heart's desire, j
And when they leave the shipping point, their eyes : are like balls of fire.
It's of those fighting cattle, they seem to have no \ fear,
A-riding bucking broncos oft is their heart's de- i
sire. I
1
They will ride into the branding pen, a rope within
their hands, |
They will catch them by each forefoot and bring j
them to the sands; |
It's altogether in practice with a little bit of sleight, i
A-roping Texas cattle, it is their heart's delight. |
i 1
But now comes the rising generation to take the cow- i
boy's place, ; Likewise the corn-fed granger, with his bold and
cheeky face; i
It's on those plains of Texas a lone buffalo hunter '
does stand ]
To tell the fate of the cowboy that rode at his right |
hand.
1 20
THE CROOKED TRAIL TO HOLBROOK
GOME all you jolly cowboys that follow the bronco steer, I'll sing to you a verse or two your spirits for to
cheer; It's all about a trip, a trip that I did undergo On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.
It's on the seventeenth of February, our herd it
started out. It would have made your hearts shudder to hear
them bawl and shout. As wild as any buffalo that ever rode the Platte, Those dogies we were driving, and every one was
fat.
We crossed the Mescal Mountains on the way to
Gilson Flats, And when we got to Gilson Flats, Lord, how the
wind did blow; It blew so hard, it blew so fierce, we knew not
where to go. But our spirits never failed us as onward we did
go,— On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.
That night we had a stampede; Christ, how the cattle run I
121
The Crooked Trail to Holhrook i
We made it to our horses; I tell you, we had no fun; \
Over the prickly pear and catclaw brush we quickly |
made our way; \
We thought of our long journey and the girls we'd ]
left one day. |
\
It's long by Sombserva we slowly punched along,
While each and every puncher would sing a hearty \
song
To cheer up his comrade as onward we did go, '
On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh. ^
We crossed the Mongollen Mountains where the tall |
pines do grow, \
Grass grows in abundance, and rippling streams do |
flow; !
Our packs were always turning, of course our gait was slow,
On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.
At last we got to Holbrook, a little gale did blow; ■
It blew up sand and pebble stones and it didn't blow i
them slow. j
We had to drink the water from that muddy little j
stream I
And swallowed a peck of dirt when we tried to eat |
a bean. '
' \ But the cattle now are shipped and homeward we
are bound
122
The Crooked Trail to Holhrook
With a lot of as tired horses as ever could be found; Across the reservation no danger did we fear, But thought of wives and sweethearts and the ones
we love so dear. Now we are back in Globe City, our friendship there
to share; Here's luck to every puncher that follows the bronco
steer.
1125
ONLY A COWBOY
AWAY out in old Texas, that great lone star state, Where the mocking bird whistles both early and late ; It was in Western Texas on the old N A range The boy fell a victim on the old staked plains.
He was only a cowboy gone on before, He was only a cowboy, we will never see more ; He was doing his duty on the old N A range But now he is sleeping on the old staked plains.
His crew they were numbered twenty-seven or eight.
The boys were like brothers, their friendship was great.
When ** O God, have mercy " was heard from be- hind,—
The cattle were left to drift on the line.
He leaves a dear wife and little ones, too,
To earn them a living, as fathers oft do ;
For while he was working for the loved ones so dear
He was took without warning or one word of cheer.
And while he is sleeping where the sun always shines, The boys they go dashing along on the line; The look on their faces it speaks to us all Of one who departed to the home of the soul.
124
Only a Cowboy
He was only a cowboy gone on before, He was only a cowboy, we will never see more ; He was doing his duty on the old N A range But now he is sleeping on the old staked plains.
125
FULLER AND WARREN
YE sons of Columbia, your attention I do crave, While a sorrowful story I do tell. Which happened of late, in the Indiana state, And a hero not many could excel; Like Samson he courted, made choice of the fair, And Intended to make her his wife; But she, like Delilah, his heart did ensnare, Which cost him his honor and his life.
A gold ring he gave her In token of his love,
On the face was the image of the dove;
They mutually agreed to get married with speed
And were promised by the powers above.
But the fickle-minded maiden vowed again to wed
To young Warren w^ho lived In that place;
It was a fatal blow that caused his overthrow
And added to her shame and disgrace.
When Fuller came to hear he was deprived of his
dear Whom he vowed by the powers to wed, With his heart full of woe unto Warren he did go. And smilingly unto him he said: ** Young man, you have injured me to gratify your
cause By reporting that I left a prudent wife;
126
Fuller and Warren
Acknowledge now that you have wronged me, for
although I break the laws, Young Warren, I'll deprive you of your life."
Then Warren, he replied: "Your request must be
denied, For your darling to my heart she is bound; And further I can say that this is our wedding day. In spite of all the heroes in town." Then Fuller In the passion of his love and anger
bound, — Alas ! it caused many to cry, — At one fatal shot killed Warren on the spot. And smilingly said, " I'm ready now to die."
The time was drawing nigh when Fuller had to die;
He bid the audience adieu.
Like an angel he did stand, for he was a handsome
man. On his breast he had a ribbon of blue. Ten thousand spectators did smite him on the breast. And the guards dropped a tear from the eye, Saying, ** Cursed be she who caused this misery. Would to God In his stead she had to die."
The gentle god of Love looked with anger fromi
above And the rope flew asunder like the sand. Two doctors for the pay they murdered him, they
say,
127
Fuller and Warren
They Hung him by main strength of hand.
But the corpse It was buried and the doctors lost
their prey, Oh, that harlot was bribed, I do believe; Bad women to a certainty are the downfall of men, As Adam was beguiled by Eve.
128
Fuller and Warren
i
h=^
■A S'-h &--^ K
N &-
t=:ki
^=E
b=i=^^i:i=^t^=J.
m . 9 — #-r-#
Ye sons of Co- lum- bia, your at- ten - tion I do crave,
:fc==
Ih^
I
i
5
f
t^-f^ — &-
Fk ; ■ * -*^_« » *^=i==i^
While a sor - ri - ful sto - ry I do tell,
^
-• *
T
m
3^^:
P
^ J" f" I ,. ^->• ^ ^. 1^ ^^
-• —
-# «•
H"^
-# — # — 0-
Which hap - pened of late in the In - di - an - a state,
ffii-
?
—I-
i
t
Puller and Warren— r.'Mft'i»i««/
--N i^-— t
±=S:^
&
-^—±
i^^—^ N-
m
^
-• — -»-
^1^^
Aiul ft bo - ro . . . not mi\ - ny oouUi ox - ool.
{$
w
I
^
mm
f
r^r^
^^^rtTTTtJ^^^^gJ
Liko Sam - sou ho court - od. mtuio ohoioo of the fair.
m
it^!^^--
m
m
z5=z«:
i
fc=«:
:fcrf=:f'=*=:t=4!£
1^^— *;
*=?:
fS
And in - tend - ed. . . to make her his wife;
m
p^
t^f
^
^
^
^
FuJler and V^^Tr^n—Ccmduded
3zfa=;r^;^^WLLj ;:i^g
liut hh«i, likfj De - li -Ja,... hw h<:art did hn-HH-dra,
^
i
^
i
f~^ J' I ; u±i^
A N--=l
i
4-,
F^
Which coKt him hia hon - or and hin life.
(i
^1
^
;«-^fF
^
-*- =1:
THE TRAIL TO MEXICO \
I MADE up my mind to change my way ]
And quit my crowd that was so gay, To leave my native home for a while And to travel west for many a mile. ■
i
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo. \
'Twas all in the merry month of May
When I started for Texas far away, \
I left my darling girl behind, — j
She said her heart was only mine. j
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo. i
•!
Oh, It was when I embraced her In my arms ^
I thought she had ten thousand charms; ;
Her caresses were soft, her kisses were sweet, i
Saying, '* We will get married next time we meet." |
Whoo-a-whoo^a-whoo-a-whoo. j
1 It was in the year of eighty-three ]
That A. J. Stinson hired me. j
He says, " Young fellow, I want you to go And drive this herd to Mexico.*'
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.
132
The Trail to Mexico
The first horse they gave me was an old black With two big set-fasts on his back; I padded him with gunny-sacks and my bedding all; He went up, then down, and I got a fall.
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.
The next they gave me was an old gray, ril remember him till my dying day. And if I had to swear to the fact, I believe he was worse off than the black.
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.
Oh, it was early in the year When I went on trail to drive the steer. I stood my guard through sleet and snow While on the trail to Mexico.
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.
Oh, It was a long and lonesome go
As our herd rolled on to Mexico;
With laughter light and the cowboy's song
To Mexico we rolled along.
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.
When I arrived In Mexico I wanted to see my love but could not go;
133
The Trail to Mexico
So I wrote a letter, a letter to my dear, But not a word from her could I hear.
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo. i
i
When I arrived at the once loved home I called for the darling of my own; They said she had married a richer life, Therefore, wild cowboy, seek another wife.
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo. 1
I Oh, the girl she is married I do adore, i
And I cannot stay at home any more; ■
I'll cut my way to a foreign land Or I'll go back west to my cowboy band.
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo. \
I'll go back to the Western land, \ I'll hunt up my old cowboy band, —
Where the girls are few and the boys are true \
And a false-hearted love I never knew. j
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo. \
j " O Buddie, O Buddie, please stay at home, j
Don't be forever on the roam. \
There Is many a girl more true than I, ;
So pray don't go where the bullets fly."
Whoo-a-whoo^a-whoo-a-whoo. i
^ 134 \
The Trail to Mexico
" It's curse your gold and your silver too, God pity a girl that won't prove true; I'll travel West where the bullets fly, I'll stay on the trail till the day I die."
Whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo-a-whoo.
135
THE HORSE WRANGLER
I THOUGHT one spring just for fun I'd see how cow-punching was done, And when the round-ups had begun I tackled the cattle-king. Says he, *' My foreman is In town. He's at the plaza, and his name Is Brown, If you'll see him, he'll take you down." Says I, " That's just the thing."
We started for the ranch next day ;
Brown augured me most all the way.
He said that cow-punching was nothing but play.
That It was no work at all, —
That all you had to do was ride,
And only drifting with the tide;
The son of a gun, oh, how he lied.
Don't you think he had his gall?
He put me in charge of a cavyard, And told me not to work too hard, That all I had to do was guard The horses from getting away ; I had one hundred and sixty head, I sometimes wished that I was dead; When one got away, Brown's head turned red, And there was the devil to pay.
136
The Horse Wrangler
Sometimes one would make a break, Across the prairie he would take, As if running for a stake, — It seemed to them but play; Sometimes I could not head them at all, Sometimes my horse would catch a fall And I'd shoot on like a cannon ball Till the earth came in my way.
They saddled me up an old gray hack
With two set-fasts on his back,
They padded him down with a gunny sack
And used my bedding all.
When I got on he quit the ground,
Went up in the air and turned around,
And I came down and busted the ground, —
I got one hell of a fall.
They took me up and carried me in
And rubbed me down with an old stake pin.
" That's the way they all begin ;
You're doing well," says Brown.
** And In the morning, If you don't die,
I'll give you another horse to try."
" Oh say, can't I walk? " says I.
Says he, " Yes, back to town."
I've traveled up and IVe traveled down, I've traveled this country round and round, I've lived In city and I've lived in town,
137
The Horse Wrangler
But I've got this much to say :
Before you try cow-punching, kiss your wife,
Take a heavy insurance on your life,
Then cut your throat with a barlow knife, —
For it's easier done that way.
138
CALIFORNIA JOE
WELL, mates, I don't like stories; Or am I going to act A part around the campfire That ain't a truthful fact? So fill your pipes and listen, I'll tell you — let me see — I think it was in fifty, From that till sixty-three.
You've all heard tell of Bridgcr;
I used to run with Jim,
And many a hard day's scouting
I've done longside of him.
Well, once near old Fort Reno,
A trapper used to dwell;
We called him old Pap Reynolds,
The scouts all knew him well.
One night in the spring of fifty We camped on Powder River, And killed a calf of buffalo And cooked a slice of liver. While eating, quite contented, I heard three shots or four; Put out the fire and listened, — We heard a dozen more. 139
California Joe
We knew that old man Reynolds Had moved his traps up here; So picking up our rifles And fixing on our gear We moved as quick as lightning, To save was our desire. Too late, the painted heathens Had set the house on fire.
We hitched our horses quickly And waded up the stream; While down close beside the waters I heard a muffled scream. And there among the bushes A little girl did lie. I picked her up and whispered, " I'll save you or I'll die."
Lord, what a ride I Old Bridger
Had covered my retreat;
Sometimes that child would whisper
In voice low and sweet,
" Poor Papa, God will take him
To Mama up above;
There Is no one left to love me.
There Is no one left to love."
The little one was thirteen And I was twenty-two; I says, " I'll be your father 140
California Joe
An^ love you just as true." She nestled to my bosom, Her hazel eyes so bright, Looked up and made me happy, — The close pursuit that night.
One month had passed and Maggie, We called her Hazel Eye, In truth was going to leave me, Was going to say good-bye. Her uncle, Mad Jack Reynolds, Reported long since dead. Had come to claim my angel. His brother's child, he said.
What could I say? We parted.
Mad Jack was growing old;
I handed him a bank note
And all I had in gold.
They rode away at sunrise,
I went a mile or two.
And parting says, ''We will meet again;
May God watch over you."
By a laughing, dancing broolc A little cabin stood. And weary with a long day's scout, I spied it In the wood. The pretty valley stretched beyond, The mountains towered above, 141,
California Joe
And near its willow banks I heard The cooing of a dove.
'Twas one grand pleasure; The brook was plainly seen, Like a long thread of silver In a cloth of lovely green ; The laughter of the water, The cooing of the dove, IWas like some painted picture, Some well-told tale of love.
While drinking in the country And resting in the saddle, I heard a gentle rippling Like the dipping of a paddle, And turning to the water, A strange sight met my view, — A lady with her rifle In a little bark canoe.
She stood up in the center, With her rifle to her eye; I thought just for a second My time had come to die. I doffed my hat and told her, If it was just the same, To drop her little shooter. For I was not her game.
142
California Joe
She dropped the deadly weapon And leaped from the canoe. Says she, " I beg your pardon; I thought you was a Sioux. Your long hair and your buckskin Looked warrior-like and rough; My bead was spoiled by sunshine, Or I'd have killed you sure enough.''
" Perhaps it would've been better If you'd dropped me then," says I ; *' For surely such an angel Would bear me to the sky." She blushingly dropped her eyelids, Her cheeks were crimson red ; One half-shy glance she gave me And then hung down her head.
I took her little hand in mine; She wondered what It meant, And yet she drew It not away. But rather seemed content. We sat upon the mossy bank, Her eyes began to fill ; The brook was rippling at our feet, The dove was cooing still.
'TIs strong arms were thrown around her. " I'll save you or I'll die." I clasped her to my bosom, 143
California Joe
My long lost Hazel Eye. The rapture of that moment Was almost heaven to me; I kissed her 'mid the tear-drops, Her merriment and glee.
Her heart near mine was beating
When sobblngly she said,
" My dear, my brave preserver.
They told me you were dead.
But oh, those parting words, Joe,
Have never left my mind,
You said, * We'll meet again, Mag,'
Then rode off like the wind.
" And oh, how I have prayed, Joe, For you who saved my life, That God would send an angel To guide you through all strife. The one who claimed me from you, My Uncle, good and true. Is sick In yonder cabin ; Has talked so much of you.
** * If Joe were living darling,' He said to me last night, ' He would care for you, Maggie, When God puts out my light.' " We found the old man sleeping. " Hush, Maggie, let him rest." 144
California Joe
The sun was slowly setting In the far-off, glowing West.
And though we talked In whispers
He opened wide his eyes:
** A dream, a dream," he murmured,
" Alas, a dream of lies."
She drifted like a shadow
To where the old man lay.
*' You had a dream, dear Uncle,
Another dream to-day?"
" Oh yes, I saw an angel
As pure as mountain snow,
And near her at my bedside
Stood California Joe."
** I'm sure Fm not an angel.
Dear Uncle, that you know;
These hands that hold your hand, too.
My face is not like snow.
" Now listen while I tell you. For I have news to cheer; Hazel Eye Is happy, For Joe Is truly here." It was but a few days after The old man said to me, ** Joe, boy, she Is an angel. And good as angels be.
H5
California Joe
" For three long months she hunted, And trapped and nursed me too ; God bless you, boy, I believe it, She's safe along with you.'' The sun was slowly sinking. When Maggie, my wife, and I Went riding through the valley, The tear-drops in her eye.
** One year ago to-day, Joe, I saw the mossy grave; We laid him neath the daisies, My Uncle, good and brave." And comrade, every springtime Is sure to find me there; There Is something In the valley That Is always fresh and fair.
Our love is always kindled While sitting by the stream. Where two hearts were united In love's sweet happy dream.
146
THE BOSTON BURGLAR
I WAS barn in Boston City, a city you all know well, Brought up by honest parents, the truth to you I'll
tell, Brought up by honest parents and raised most ten- derly. Till I became a roving man at the age of twenty- three.
My character was taken then, and I was sent to jail. My friends they found it was in vain to get me out
on bail. The jury found me guilty, the clerk he wrote it down. The judge he passed me sentence and I was sent to
Charleston town.
You ought to have seen my aged father a-pleading at the bar.
Also my dear old mother a-tearing of her hair.
Tearing of her old gray locks as the tears came roll- ing down,
Saying, " Son, dear son, what have you done, that you are sent to Charleston town ? "
They put me aboard an eastbound train one cold December day,
147
The Boston Burglar j
And every station that we passed, I'd hear the people i say, _ i
** There goes a noted burglar, In strong chains he'll I be bound, — '
For the doing of some crime or other he is sent to ; Charleston town."
There Is a girl In Boston, she Is a girl that I love well, ■ And If I ever gain my liberty, along with her I'll !
dwell; I
And when I regain my liberty, bad company I will '
shun, '
Night-walking, gambling, and also drinking rum. '
Now, you who have your liberty, pray keep it if you ■
can, j
And don't go around the streets at night to break the |
laws of man; j
For if you do you'll surely rue and find yourself like j me,
A-servIng out my twenty-one years In the penitentiary. |
148 \
SAM BASS
SAM BASS was born In Indiana, It was his native home, And at the age of seventeen young Sam began to
roam. Sam first came out to Texas a cowboy for to be, — A kinder-hearted fellow you seldom ever see.
Sam used to deal In race stock, one called the
Denton mare, He matched her in scrub races, and took her to the
Fair. Sam used to coin the money and spent It just as free, He always drank good whiskey wherever he might be.
Sam left the Collin's ranch in the merry month of
May With a herd of Texas cattle the Black Hills for to
see. Sold out In Custer City and then got on a spree, — A harder set of cowboys you seldom ever see.
On their way back to Texas they robbed the U. P.
train. And then split up In couples and started out again. Joe Collins and his partner were overtaken soon, With all their hard-earned money they had to meet
their doom.
149
. Sam Bass ^
Sam made it back to Texas all right side up with i
care ; j
Rode Into the town of Denton with all his friends to \
share. !
Sam's life was short In Texas; three robberies did ■
he do, :
He robbed all the passenger, mail, and express cars :
too.
Sam had four companions — four bold and daring i
lads — I
They were Richardson, Jackson, Joe Collins, and Old I
Dad; \
Four more bold and daring cowboys the rangers |
never knew, j
They whipped the Texas rangers and ran the boys in I
blue. j
!
Sam had another companion, called Arkansas for i short, I
Was shot by a Texas ranger by the name of Thomas ! Floyd ;
Oh, Tom is a big six-footer and thinks he's mighty
fly. _ !
But I can tell you his racket, — he's a deadbeat on i the sly.
Jim Murphy was arrested, and then released on . bail; '
150
Sam Bass
He jumped his bond at Tyler and then took the train
for Terrell; But Mayor Jones had posted Jim and that was all a
stall, 'Twas only a plan to capture Sam before the coming
fall.
Sam met his fate at Round Rock, July the twenty- first,
They pierced poor Sam with rifle balls and emptied out his purse.
Poor Sam he is a corpse and six foot under clay.
And Jackson's In the bushes trying to get away.
Jim had borrowed Sam's good gold and didn't want
to pay. The only shot he saw was to give poor Sam away. He sold out Sam and Barnes and left their friends to
mourn, — Oh, what a scorching Jim will get when Gabriel
blows his horn.
And so he sold out Sam and Barnes and left their
friends to mourn, Oh, what a scorching Jim will get when Gabriel
blows his horn. Perhaps he's got to heaven, there's none of us can
say, But if I'm right in my surmise he's gone the other
way.
151
Sam Bass
m
(t— N fr-
4==t^
^
&-- -A IN — ^
:^=i
Sam Bass was born in In - di - an - a,
I
^3^
It
(B
i
r=^=
-g— 0 . -^ — #-
:«=3t
was his na - tive home; And at the age of
1^
__^.
^
i
N N-
m
$
sev - en - teen, Young Sam be - gan to roam, [Sam
H — ^
A— =^
¥
$
^:-t7-
^
J 1 -I :
_q
Sam Bass— Concluded
^E^E^E^^^^m
first came out to Tex-as, Acow-boyfor to be; A
ifc
Ifc^
?
*=^F5^^i^
K^
r:
^ ^
?f
■^
?=*
^f
fczt
=^
'.izz:
JEE«
-5* — ^
N — ^—S
t±i=izM=z-ii
:4-3
n
kind - er - heart-ed fel - low You sel - dom ev - er see.
i
^
^
— f-
i
^
S ^
«-T-
^
i
THE ZEBRA DUN |
i
WE were camped on the plains at the head of : the Cimarron .
When along came a stranger and stopped to arger j some. i
He looked so very foolish that we began to look : around, !
We thought he was a greenhorn that had just 'scaped | from town.
We asked If he had been to breakfast; he hadn't had
a smear, So we opened up the chuck-box and bade him have
his share. He took a cup of coffee and some biscuits and some
beans, And then began to talk and tell about foreign kings
and queens, —
About the Spanish war and fighting on the seas I
With guns as big as steers and ramrods big as ,
trees, — i
And about old Paul Jones, a mean, fighting son of a j
gun.
Who was the grittiest cuss that ever pulled a gun. \
Such an educated feller his thoughts just came in ; herds, \
154
The Zebra Dun
He astonished all them cowboys with them jaw- breaking words. He just kept on talking till he made the boys all sick, And they began to look around just how to play a trick.
He said he had lost his job upon the Santa Fe And was going across the plains to strike the 7-D. He didn't say how come It, some trouble with the
boss, But said he'd like to borrow a nice fat saddle boss.
This tickled all the boys to death, they laughed way
down in their sleeves, — " We will lend you a horse just as fresh and fat as
you please." Shorty grabbed a lariat and roped the Zebra Dun And turned him over to the stranger and waited for
the fun.
Old Dunny was a rocky outlaw that had grown so
awful wild That he could paw the white out of the moon every
jump for a mile. Old Dunny stood right still, — as If he didn't
know, — Until he was saddled and ready for to go.
When the stranger hit the saddle, old Dunny quit the earth
155
The Zebra Dun \
And traveled right straight up for all that he was ]
worth. i
A-pItching and a-squealing, a-having wall-eyed fits, \
His hind feet perpendicular, his front ones in the \
bits. j
We could see the tops of the mountains under Dunny
every jump, i
But the stranger he was growed there just like the j
camePs hump; i
The stranger sat upon him and curled his black !
mustache .
Just like a summer boarder waiting for his hash. I
j
He thumped him in the shoulders and spurred him 1
when he whirled, i
To show them flunky punchers that he was the wolf i
of the world. ;
When the stranger had dismounted once more upon |
the ground, ;
We knew he was a thoroughbred and not a gent ;
from town ; i
!
The boss who was standing round watching of the
show. Walked right up to the stranger and told him he
needn't go, — \
"If you can use the lasso like you. rode old Zebra \
Dun,
156
The Zehra Dun
You are the man I've been looking for ever since the year one."
Oh, he could twirl the lariat and he didn't do It slow, He could catch them fore feet nine out of ten for any
kind of dough. And when the herd stampeded he was always on the
spot And set them to nothing, like the boiling of a pot. •
There's one thing and a shore thing IVe learned
since I've been born. That every educated feller ain't a plumb greenhorn.
157
THE BUFFALO SKINNERS 1
GOME all you jolly fellows and listen to my j
song, i
There are not many verses, It will not detain you I
long; It's concerning some young fellows who did agree
to go ]
And spend one summer pleasantly on the range of the j
buffalo. j
i
It happened In Jacksboro in the spring of seventy- three, i
A man by the name of Crego came stepping up to j
me, j
Saying, " How do you do, young fellow, and how I
would you like to go j
And spend one summer pleasantly on the range of
the buffalo?" \
" It's me being out of employment," this to Crego i
I did say,
" This going out on the buffalo range depends upon ;
the pay. ;
But if you will pay good wages and transportation ;
too, ;
I think, sir, I will go with you to the range of the !
buffalo." i
158 i
The Buffalo Skinners
** Yes, I will pay good wages, give transportation
too. Provided you will go with me and stay the summer
through ; But if you should grow homesick, come back to
Jacksboro, I won't pay transportation from the range of the
buffalo.''
It's now our outfit was complete — seven able- bodied men,
With navy six and needle gun — our troubles did begin;
Our way it was a pleasant one, the route we had to
go, Until we crossed Pease River on the range of the buffalo.
It's now we've crossed Pease River, our troubles
have begun. The first damned tail I went to rip, Christ! how I
cut my thumb I While skinning the damned old stinkers our lives
wasn't a show. For the Indians watched to pick us off while skinning
the buffalo.
He fed us on such sorry chuck I wished myself most
dead, It was old jerked beef, croton coffee, and sour bread.
159
The B II f do Skinners
Pease River's as salty as hell fire, the water I could
never go, — O God I I wished I had never come to the range of
the buffalo.
Our meat it was buffalo hump and iron wedge bread, And all we had to sleep on was a buffalo robe for a
bed; The fleas and gray-backs worked on us, O boys, it
was not slow, ril tell you there's no worse hell on earth than the
range of the buffalo.
Our hearts were cased with buffalo hocks, our souls
were cased with steel, And the hardships of that summer would nearly
make us reel. While skinning the damned old stinkers our lives
they had no show, For the Indians waited to pick us off on the hills of
Mexico.
The season being near over, old Crego he did say The crowd had been extravagant, was in debt to
him that day, — We coaxed him and we begged him and still it was
no go, — We left old Crego's bones to bleach on the range of
the buffalo.
i6o
The Buffalo Skinners
Oh, it's now we've crossed Pease River and home- ward we are bound,
No more In that hell-fired country shall ever we be found.
Go home to our wives and sweethearts, tell others not to go,
For God's forsaken the buffalo range and the damned old buffalo.
i6i
Range of the Buffalo
$
4=^Ff^
i
-N — ^ — N-i-#
'Twas in the town of Jacksbo - ro, In eigh-teen eigh - ty
¥W^
SeIe*
=t:
«:4;
:^
^
^
-2 5.
$
S^
^rq
-& — ^
S— -s.
'■>f=f^
^
m
M=i
f
A— #-^ — # — k
5=t:
4;^
three, When a man by the name of Cre - go . . . Came
-<«-
* f
:?^1^
^^
-4r
^
i^
^
ii
^^n^^^^ji^
yi — ^ — t^
i
step-ping up to me; Say-ing, "How do you do, young
^
$
Rans^e of the Buffalo — Concluded
4— ^
N — I
r^
-*— *-
-^
^
• #
^
«< •f
fel - low, And how would you like to go.. And
(^
i
:ff=^^
i
^ — ^— ^-
^^>^^\i ^'J-^^^
spend one aummer sea-son On the range of the Buf - fa - lor
i
^
-m- -^ -m-
-1 ■ m ■
H f^
-^ -li^. (
1
r=i
p
MACAFFIE'S CONFESSION
NOW come young men and list to me, A sad and mournful history; And may you ne'er forgetful be Of what I tell this day to thee.
Oh, I was thoughtless, young, and gay And often broke the Sabbath day, In wickedness I took delight And sometimes done what wasn't right.
I'd scarcely passed my fifteenth year. My mother and my father dear Were silent in their deep, dark grave. Their spirits gone to Him who gave.
'Twas on a pleasant summer day When from my home I ran away And took unto myself a wife, Which step was fatal to my life.
Oh, she was kind and good to me
As ever woman ought to be.
And might this day have been alive no doubt,
Had I not met Miss Hatty Stout.
Ah, well I mind the fatal day When Hatty stole my heart away; 164
Macaffie^s Confession
'Twas love for her controlled my will And did cause me my wife to kill.
'Twas on a brilliant summer's night When all was still; the stars shone bright. My wife lay still upon the bed And I approached to her and said:
" Dear wife, here's medicine I've brought, For you this day,* my love, I've bought. I know It will be good for you For those vile fits, — pray take It, do."
She cast on me a loving look
And In her mouth the poison took;
Down by her Infant on the bed
In her last, long sleep she laid her head.
Oh, who could tell a mother's thought When first to her the news was brought ; The sheriff said her son was sought And Into prison must be brought.
Only a mother standing by To hear them tell the reason why Her son In prison, he must lie Till on the scaffold he must die.
My father, sixty years of age. The best of counsel did engage, I6S
Macaffle's Confession
To see If something could be done To save his disobedient son.
So, farewell, mother, do not weep, Though soon with demons I will sleep, My soul now feels Its mental hell And soon with demons I will dwell.
The sheriff cut the slender cord, His soul went up to meet Its Lord; The doctor said, " The wretch Is dead, His spirit from his body's fled."
His weeping mother cried aloud, " O God, do save this gazing crowd. That none may ever have to pay For gambling on the Sabbath day.'*
i66
LITTLE JOE, THE WRANGLER
IT'S little Joe, the wrangler, he'll wrangle never more. His days with the remuda they are o'er; 'Twas a year ago last April when he rode into our
camp, — Just a little Texas stray and all alone, — On a little Texas pony he called " Chaw." With his brogan shoes and overalls, a tougher kid You never in your life before had saw.
His saddle was a Texas " kak," built many years ago.
With an O. K. spur on one foot lightly swung;
His " hot roll " in a cotton sack so loosely tied be- hind.
And his canteen from his saddle-horn was swung.
He said that he had to leave his home, his pa had married twice;
And his new ma whipped him every day or two ;
So he saddled up old Chaw one night and lit a shuck this way.
And he's now trying to paddle his own canoe.
He said if we would give him work, he'd do the best
he could. Though he didn't know straight up about a cow ;
167
Little Joe^ The Wrangler
So the boss he cut him out a mount and kindly put
him on, For he sorta liked this little kid somehow. Learned him to wrangle horses and to try to know
them all, And get them in at daylight If he could; To follow the chuck-wagon and always hitch the
team. And to help the cocinero rustle wood.
We had driven to the Pecos, the weather being fine; We had camped on the south side in a bend; When a norther commenced blowing we had doubled
up our guard, For it taken all of us to hold them in. Little Joe, the wrangler, was called out with the rest; Though the kid had scarcely reached the herd. When the cattle they stampeded, like a hailstorm
long they fled. Then we were all a-rldin' for the lead.
'Midst the streaks of lightin' a horse we could see in
the lead, 'Twas Little Joe, the wrangler. In the lead; He was riding Old Blue Rocket with a slicker o'er
his head, A tryin' to check the cattle in their speed. At last we got them milling and kinda quieted down, And the extra guard back to the wagon went;
i68
Little Joe, The Wrangler
But there was one a-missin' and we knew It at a
glance, 'Twas our little Texas stray, poor Wrangling Joe.
The next morning just at day break, we found where
Rocket fell, Down in a washout twenty feet below ; And beneath the horse, mashed to a pulp, — his spur
had rung the knell, — Was our little Texas stray, poor Wrangling Joe.
169
Little Joe, The Wrangler
#
^
A— A-
-# — #-
• lit
Lit - tie Joe, the wran-gler, He'll wran - gle nev - er-more,
rode up to our herd
iifef^
I^
--N ^-
-I- -14
it -5- i :?
(S
f
t-i
i
-^ — ^^-
£e^^
^ — &-
=P — S — K
0 , 0
-0-^-1^
His days with the re - mu - da they are o'er; On a lit - tie Tex - as Pony he call'd Chaw;
$
l/'H
m.
i
f
I
JS=t5[zqs:
t
^
3t=it
-N-A-
?=it
T-#-
-A—A-
^
-# — 0-
Twas a year a - go last A - pril he rode in - to our herd; With his bro - gan shoes and o - veralls, a tough-er look-in' kid
m.
^^
^^
i
:^ :^
Little Joe, The y/rsM%\er— Concluded
Fine
I
W
E^^EES
-A 1^ — l\-#-T-H P» \
Just a lit- tie Tex - as 8tray,and all a - lone. You. . nev-er in your life be-fore had saw.
I
i
^ J' J ^ J J
31=:^
n — -1 —
m
I
w^-
i
I
f^
-Js — ^-
It was late in the eve - ning
D.8.
he
5^-^
HARRY BALE J
GOME all kind friends and kindred dear and '
Christians young and old, i
A story I'll relate to you, 'twill make your blood run \
cold ; i
'Tis all about an unfortunate boy who lived not far i
from here, i
In the township of Arcade in the County of Lapeer, j
It seems his occupation was a sawyer in a mill, I
He followed it successfully two years, one month, \
until, !
Until this fatal accident that caused many to weep !
and wail;
'Twas where this young man lost his life, — his name ;
was Llarry Bale. j
On the 29th of April In the year of seventy-nine, 1
He went to work as usual, no fear did he design;
In lowering of the feed bar throwing the carriage :
into gear It brought him down upon the saw and cut him quite
severe ; It cut him through the collar-bone and half way \
down the back, I
It threw him down upon the saw, the carriage com- :
ing back. i
172 j
Harry Bale
He started for the shanty, his strength was failing
fast; He said, "Oh, boys, I'm wounded: I fear it is my
last."
His brothers they were sent for, likewise his sisters
too, The doctors came and dressed his wound, but kind
words proved untrue. Poor Harry had no father to weep beside his bed. No kind and loving mother to sooth his aching head. He was just as gallant a young man as ever you
wished to know, But he withered like a flower, it was his time to go.
They placed him in his coffin and laid him In his
grave; His brothers and sisters mourned the loss of a
brother so true and brave. They took him to the graveyard and laid him away
to rest. His body lies mouldering, his soul is among the blest.
^13
FOREMAN MONROE
COME all you brave young shanty boys, and list while I relate Concerning a young shanty boy and his untimely
fate ; Concerning a young river man, so manly, true and
brave ; 'Twas on a jam at Gerry's Rock he met his watery grave;
'Twas on a Sunday morning as you will quickly hear. Our logs were piled up mountain high, we could not
keep them clear. Our foreman said, " Come on, brave boys, with
hearts devoid of fear. We'll break the jam on Gerry's Rock and for Agons-
town we'll steer."
Now, some of them were willing, while others they were not.
All for to work on Sunday they did not think they ought;
But six of our brave shanty boys had volunteered to go
And break the jam on Gerry's Rock with their fore- man, young Monroe.
174
Foreman Monroe
They had not rolled off many logs 'till they heard
his clear voice say, " I'd have you boys be on your guard, for the jam
will soon give way." These words he'd scarcely spoken when the jam did
break and go. Taking with it six of those brave boys and their
foreman, young Monroe.
Now when those other shanty boys this sad news
came to hear, In search of their dead comrades to the river they
did steer; Six of their mangled bodies a-floating down did go, While crushed and bleeding near the banks lay the
foreman, young Monroe.
They took him from his watery grave, brushed back his raven hair;
There was a fair form among them whose cries did rend the air;
There was a fair form among them, a girl from Sag- inaw town,
Whose cries rose to the skies for her lover who'd gone down.
Fair Clara was a noble girl, the river-man's true
friend; She and her widowed mother lived at the river's
bend;
175
Foreman Monroe
And the wages of her own true love the boss to her
did pay, But the shanty boys for her made up a generous sum
next day.
They burled him quite decently; 'twas on the first
of May; Come all you brave young shanty boys and for your
comrade pray. Engraved upon the hemlock tree that by the grave
does grow Is the aged date and the sad fate of the foreman,
young Monroe.
Fair Clara did not long survive, her heart broke
with her grief; And less than three months afterwards Death came
to her relief; And when the time had come and she was called
to go, Her last request was granted, to be laid by young
Monroe.
Come all you brave young shanty boys, I'd have you
call and see Two green graves by the river side where grows a
hemlock tree; The shanty boys cut off the wood where lay those
lovers low, — 'Tis the handsome Clara Vernon and her true love.
Jack Monroe.
176
THE DREARY BLACK HILLS
KIND friends, you must pity my horrible tale, I am an object of pity, I am looking quite stale, I gave up my trade selling Right's Patent Pills To go hunting gold in the dreary Black Hills.
Don't go away, stay at home if you can, Stay away from that city, they call it Cheyenne, For big Walipe or Comanche Bills They will lift up your hair on the dreary Black Hills.
The round-house in Cheyenne is filled every night With loafers and bummers of most every plight; On their backs is no clothes, in their pockets no bills, Each day they keep starting for the dreary Black Hills.
I got to Cheyenne, no gold could I find,
I thought of the lunch route I'd left far behind;
Through rain, hall, and snow, frozen plumb to the
gills,— They call me the orphan of the dreary Black Hills.
Kind friend, to conclude, my advice I'll unfold. Don't go to the Black Hills a-hunting for gold; Railroad speculators their pockets you'll fill By taking a trip to those dreary Black Hills.
177
The Dreary Black Hills
Don't go away, stay at home If you can, Stay away from that city, they call It Cheyenne, For old Sitting Bull or Comanche Bills They will take off your scalp on the dreary Black Hills.
178
The Dreary Black Hills
p
js — ^ — ^ — ^ — ^■
t=i=i=t
Kind friends, you must pit - y my hor - ri - ble tale,
|ll
-^^
^-■^\
SfeS
atr
Sft:
^
^
i
^ — ^-
^
^ — PS — ^
■H V^ ^ 1^ \
f^=^
^ — ^
5
-PS — K
I'm an ob-ject of pit - y, I'm look-ing quite stale;
^^
m
J'^^iiSE
-^
&-
^
f
J
P
:t^=^^=:t^=^^
fc=^=f
-^ — ^
U
0 — -N
^ — ^-
izziitii:
I
t=^
I gave up my trade. Selling Right's Pat-ent Pills,
f
m^
^
^
-^ — ^-
izE
-#-T-
The Dreary Black mils— Continued
$
^^
?P=1S
ii=t-
:t-T^^^
#-r
To go hunt-ing gold in the drear - y Black Hills.
M
P^
S
if
f
*:
I wfe>,
^
P
:^
^
-^^
Refrain
P
^:t=i=i
^ N & ^
N — -N-
■^=r=^
-# — #-
• — •^
Don't go a - way, stay at home if you can;
:dJ
m
^
$r
^:
\m
m
s
^
i
A — ^
^^^
s
^ — ^
stay a -way from that cit - y they call it Chey- enne;
i
ffis
^=*
--^
(br^
The Dreary Black mils— Cone /udecf
For big Wal - i - pee or Co - man - che Billa,
-N -N , s
-=i — ^-«-
■=^ K-
m
S5
n=f
-=f
-0—r
&
\ hv-_-A
i
-N— N
fj -#- -ah -ir tT -r -*-
They will lift up your hair On the drear- y Black Hills.
^
f
I
Wt
iS-
(m^ft=r3=-il-Tvi
5=^
T^.
A MORMON SONG
I USED to live on Cottonwood and owned a little farm, I was called upon a mission that gave me much alarm ; The reason that they called me, I'm sure I do not
know. But to hoe the cane and cotton, straightway I must go. j
I yoked up Jim and Baldy, all ready for the start; j To leave my farm and garden, it almost broke my \
heart ; !
But at last we go<- started, I cast a look behind, For the sand and rocks of Dixie were running |
through my mind. i
Now, when we got to Black Ridge, my wagon it j broke down, \
And I, being no carpenter and forty miles from \ town, — t
I cut a clumsy cedar and rigged an awkward slide, j
But the wagon ran so heavy poor Betsy couldn't ride. |
While Betsy was out walking I told her to take care, ] When all of a sudden she struck a prickly pear, 1
Then she began to hollow as loud as she could 1 bawl, — j
If I were back in Cottonwood, I wouldn't go at all.
182
A Mormon Song
Now, when we got to Sand Ridge, we couldn't go at
all. Old Jim and old Baldy began to puff and loll, I cussed and swore a little, for I couldn't make the
route. For the team and I and Betsy were all of us played
out.
At length we got to Washington; I thought we'd
stay a while To see if the flowers would make their virgin smile, But I was much mistaken, for when we went away The red hills of September were just the same in
May.
It is so very dreary, there's nothing here to cheer, But old pathetic sermons we very often hear; They preach them by the dozens and prove them by
the book, But I'd sooner have a roasting-ear and stay at home
and cook.
I am so awful weary I'm sure I'm almost dead; 'Tis six long weeks last Sunday since I have tasted
bread; Of turnip-tops and lucerne greens I've had enough
to eat. But I'd like to change my diet to buckwheat cakes
and meat.
183
A Mormon Song
I had to sell my wagon for sorghum seed and bread; Old Jim and old Baldy have long since been dead. There 's no one left but me and Bet to hoc the cotton
tree, — God pity any Mormon that attempts to follow me I
184
THE BUFFALO HUNTERS
COME all you pretty girls, to you these lines I'll write, We are going to the range in which we take delight; We are going on the range as we poor hunters do, And the tender-footed fellows can stay at home with you.
It's all of the day long as we go tramping round In search of the buffalo that we may shoot him
down; Our guns upon our shoulders, our belts of forty
rounds, We send them up Salt River to some happy hunting
grounds.
Our game, It Is the antelope, the buffalo, wolf, and
deer, Who roam the wide prairies without a single fear ; We rob him of his robe and think It Is no harm. To buy us food and clothing to keep our bodies
warm.
The buffalo, he is the noblest of the band. He sometimes rejects In throwing up his hand. His shaggy main thrown forward, his head raised to the sky,
185
The Buffalo Hunters
He seems to say, '* We're coming, boys; so hunter mind your eye."
■(
Our fires are made of mesquite roots, our beds are I on the ground; i
Our houses made of buffalo hides, we make them ■' tall and round; i
Our furniture is the camp kettle, the coffee pot, and pan,
Our chuck It is both bread and meat, mingled well
with sand.
\
Our neighbors are the Cheyennes, the 'Rapahoes, and
Sioux, Their mode of navigation is a buffalo-hide canoe. And when they come upon you they take you un- I
aware, |
And such a peculiar way they have of raising \.
hunter's hair. I
.86 |,
THE LITTLE OLD SOD SHANTY
I AM looking rather seedy nowi while holding down my claim, And my victuals are not always served the best; And the mice play shyly round me as I nestle down
to rest In my little old sod shanty on my claim.
The hinges are of leather and the windows have
no glass, While the board roof lets the howling blizzards in, And I hear the hungry cayote as he slinks up
through the grass Round the little old sod shanty on my claim.
Yet, I rather like the novelty of living in this way, Though my bill of fare is always rather tame, ^ But I'm happy as a clam on the land of Uncle Sam In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
But when I left my Eastern home, a bachelor so
gay, To try and win my way to wealth and fame, I little thought I'd come down to burning twisted
hay In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
i«7
The Little Old Sod Shanty
My clothes are plastered o'er with dough, Tm look- ing like a fright, j
And everything is scattered round the room, '
But I wouldn't give the freedom that I have out in J the West
For the table of the Eastern man's old home.
Still, I wish that some kind-hearted girl would pity
on me take And relieve me from the mess that I am in ; The angel, how I'd bless her if this her home she'd
make In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
I
And we would make our fortunes on the prairies of
the West, Just as happy as two lovers we'd remain; We'd forget the trials and troubles we endured at \
the first J
In the little old sod shanty on my claim. i
And if fate should bless us with now and then an j
heir To cheer our hearts with honest pride of fame, i^
Oh, then we'd be contented for the toil that we had \
spent J
In the little old sod shanty on our claim. jl
When time enough had lapsed and all those little ,
brats !
i88i \\
The Little Old Sod Shanty
To noble man and womanhood had grown,
It wouldn't seem half so lonely as round us we should
look And we'd see the old sod shanty on our claim.
\ 189 \
THE GOL-DARNED WHEEL
I CAN take the wildest bronco in the tough old woolly West. I can ride him, I can break him, let him do his level
best; I can handle any cattle ever wore a coat of hair, And IVe had a lively tussle with a tarnel grizzly
bear. I can rope and throw the longhorn of the wildest '
Texas brand, I
And In Indian disagreements I can play a leading
hand. But at last I got my master and he surely made me
squeal When the boys got me a-straddle of that gol-darned
wheel.
It was at the Eagle Ranch, on the Brazos,
When I first found that darned contrivance that
upset me In the dust. A tenderfoot had brought it, he was wheeling all
the way From the sun-rise end of freedom out to San Fran- cisco Bay. He tied up at the ranch for to get outside a meal. Never thinking we would monkey with his gol- darned wheel.
190
The Gol-Darned Wheel
Arizona Jim begun it when he said to Jack McGill
There was fellows forced to limit bragging on their riding skill,
And he'd venture the admission the same fellow that he meant
Was a very handy cutter far as riding bronchos went;
But he would find that he was bucking 'gainst a dif- ferent kind of deal
If he threw his leather leggins 'gainst a gol-darned wheel.
Such a slam against my talent made me hotter than
a mink, And I swore that I would ride him for amusement
or for chink. And It was nothing but a plaything for the kids and
such about, And they'd have their Ideas shattered if they'd lead
the critter out. They held it while I mounted and gave the word
to go; The shove they gave to start me warn't unreasonably
slow. But I never spilled a cuss word and I never spilled a
squeal — I was building reputation on that gol-darned wheel.
Holy Moses and the Prophets, how we split the iTexas air,
191
The GolD anted Wheel ^■
And the wind It made whip-crackers of my same old j
canthy hair, |
And I sorta comprehended as down the hill we went j There was bound to be a smash-up that I couldn^t ;
well prevent. )|
Oh, how them punchers bawled, " Stay with her, j
Uncle Bill! Stick your spurs In her, you sucker ! turn her muzzle ;
up the hill I" .[
But I never made an answer, I just let the cusses i
squeal, I was finding reputation on that gol-darned wheel. j
The grade was mighty sloping from the ranch down '
to the creek \
And I went a-galliflutin' like a crazy lightning \
streak, — <
Went whizzing and a-darting first this way and then |
that, I
The darned contrivance sort o' wobbling like the \
flying of a bat. '
I pulled upon the handles, but I couldn^t check It up, \ And I yanked and sawed and hollowed but the i
darned thing wouldn't stop. |
Then a sort of a meachin' In my brain began to |
steal, !
That the devil held a mortgage on that gol-darned j
wheel. ^j
ii
192
\The Gol'Darned Wheel
IVe a sort of dim and hazy remembrance of the
stop, With the world a-goln* round and the stars all tan- gled up ; Then there came an intermission that lasted till I
found I was lying at the ranch with the boys all gathered
round, And a doctor was a-sewing on the skin where It was
ripped. And old Arizona whispered, '* Well, old boy, I guess
you're whipped," And I told him I was busted from sombrero down to
heel. And he grinned and said, " You ought to see that
gol-darned wheel."
193
BONNIE BLACK BESS
WHEN fortune's blind goddess Had fled my abode, And friends proved unfaithful, I took to the road; To plunder the wealthy And relieve my distress, I bought you to aid me. My Bonnie Black Bess.
No vile whip nor spur Did your sides ever gall, For none did you need, You would bound at my call; And for each act of kindness You would me caress. Thou art never unfaithful, My Bonnie Black Bess.
When dark, sable midnight Her mantle had thrown O'er the bright face of nature. How oft we have gone To the famed Houndslow heath. Though an unwelcome guest To the minions of fortune. My Bonnie Black Bess. 194
Bonnie Black Bess
How silent you stood
iWhen the carriage I stopped,
iThe gold and the jewels
Its inmates would drop.
No poor man I plundered |
Nor e'er did oppress ]
The widows or orphans, ]
My Bonnie Black Bess. J
When Argus-eyed justice '
Did me hot pursue.
From Yorktown to London i
Like lightning we flew.
No toll bars could stop you, j
The waters did breast, j
And in twelve hours we made it,
My Bonnie Black Bess. ^
But hate darkens o'er me, j
Despair is my lot, I
And the law does pursue me ! For the many IVe shot;
To save me, poor brute, \
Thou hast done thy best, \
Thou art worn out and weary, j
My Bonnie Black Bess. !
Hark I they never shall have
A beast like thee; \
So noble and gentle i
195 i
Ij
Bonnie Black Bess \ I
And brave, thou must die, ||
My dumb friend, }|
Though it does me distress, — f^
There! There! I have shot thee, My Bonnie Black Bess.
In after years
When I am dead and gone,
This story will be handed
From father to son;
My fate some will pity,
And some will confess
'Twas through kindness I killed thee,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
No one can e'er say That ingratitude dwelt In the bosom of Turpin, — . 'Twas a vice never felt. I will die like a man And soon be at rest; Now, farewell forever, My Bonnie Black Bess.
196 ji
■^
THE LAST LONGHORN |
AN ancient long-horned bovine ;
Lay dying by the river; j
There was lack of vegetation )
And the cold winds made him shiver; \ A cowboy sat beside him
With sadness in his face, ;
To see his final passing, — i This last of a noble race.
,!
The ancient eunuch struggled
And raised his shaking head, \
Saying, '' I care not to linger
When all my friends are dead. j
These Jerseys and these Holstelns,
They are no friends of mine;
They belong to the nobility j
Who live across the brine.
** Tell the Durhams and the Herefords i
When they come a-grazing round, I And see me lying stark and stiff
Upon the frozen ground, j
I don't want them to bellow \
When they see that I am dead, j
For I was born in Texas i
Near the river that is Red. ^
197 ^
The Last Longhorn
" Tell the cayotes, when they come at night \
A-huntIng for their prey, i
They might as well go further, ^
For they'll find it will not pay. If they attempt to eat me. They very soon will see That my bones and hide are petrified,— ^ They'll find no beef on me.
** I remember back in the seventies, Full many summers past, There was grass and water plenty, But it was too good to last. I little dreamed what would happen Some twenty summers hence, ■
When the nester came with his wife, his kids. His dogs, and his barbed-wire fence.'*
His voice sank to a murmur, His breath was short and quick; The cowboy tried to skin him When he saw he couldn't kick; He rubbed his knife upon his boot Until he made it shine. But he never skinned old longhorn, Caze he couldn't cut his rine.
And the cowboy riz up sadly And mounted his cayuse,
198
%
The Last Longhorn
Saying, *' The time has come when longhorns
And their cowboys are no use ! "
And while gazing sadly backward
Upon the dead bovine,
His bronc stepped In a dog-hole
And fell and broke his spine.
The cowboys and the longhorns Who partnered in eighty-four Have gone to their last round-up Over on the other shore; They answered well their purpose, But their glory must fade and go. Because men say there's better things In the modern cattle show.
199
5
!
A PRISONER FOR LIFE
FARE you well, green fields, Soft meadows, adieu! Rocks and mountains, I depart from you; Nevermore shall my eyes By your beauties be blest. Nevermore shall you soothe My sad bosom to rest.
Farewell, little birdies,
That fly in the sky,
You fly all day long
And sing your troubles by;
I am doomed to this cell,
I heave a deep sigh ;
My heart sinks within me,
In anguish I die.
Fare you well, little fishes, That glides through the sea. Your life's all sunshine, All light, and all glee; Nevermore shall I watch Your skill in the wave, I'll depart from all friends This side of the grave.
200
A Prisoner for Life
What would I give
Such freedom to share,
To roam at my ease
And breathe the fresh air;
I would roam through the cities,
Through village and dell.
But I never would return
To my cold prison cell.
iWhat's life without liberty? I ofttimes have said, Of a poor troubled mindl That's always in dread; No sun, moon, and stars Can on me now shine. No change in my danger From daylight till dawn.
Fare you well, kind friends,
I am willing to own.
Such a wild outcast
Never was known;
Tm the downfall of my family,
My children, my wife;
God pity and pardon
The poor prisoner for life.
201
A Prisoner For Life
4-iic
^-^
i^
^
-A IV
-A--A-
^-s-
Fare you well green fields, . . Soft mead-ows, a - dieu!
;s
5^5
?si=t5_-r:
^
-m- • -id
#-^-#
#- ^
^
S2fcfc4:
I
fc*:
:r
t
A — ^
f^^ — N— Pv— ^-A
-N--^-
f^— N-
ii-^
it-^—f^
-w — w — w — M
Rocks and moun-tains I
part from you.
ii
^
::1^
— p-«-
1tit=:M
■^-^-
— P-ji — \ ^—9-
i^ij: *^