C
a re
TO THE F OLLOWIN G COW-G IRLS AN D PU N CH E RS
THI S LI TTLE B O OK IS DE DICATE D
M any o f you I ha ve w ork e d wi th in the p a s t, on the
pens All of yo u I hav e
known well In l ooki ng ov er this li st I fin d the nam e s o f
’
s o m e who wi ll ne ver re ad thi s as unfortunately th ey v e
ans were d th e ca ll Tho s e who are al i v e I h earti ly thank
for havi ng gi v en me th eir as s i s tanc e i n co llec ti ng th es e
M ay thi s l i ttle b ook t end to re cal l the M e s , g ood
s o ng s
and to u g h we ha d tog eth er
“
Tharp
N H o ward ! Jac k
the
trai l
rang e ,
,
and
in the b randi ng
.
.
,
.
.
.
,
.
M is s
Wi nds or
Bronco Sue
M i s s J e an B ea um ondy
M i s s B elle Starr
M i s s Ki tt Co llins
Battle Axe
a a
a
Sam M urray
Walk er H yd e
Wal t Rob erts
Jo e Cotton
Al Rob erts
Tom Wil li am s on
Sa m J ack s on
Jim
H g n
Fra nk H yes
Fall s
Tom H ud s p eth
Sal ly Whi t e
Jack M oore
Di ck Wi l s o n
Tom B e as l ey
Doc H end er s on
Sho rty Li s ton
John Caldwell
Dodg e Sanford
Jo el Thom a s
Jim Bro wnfiel d
Gl a b e M ercha nt
John Colli er
Randolp h Reynol ds
Jim
Ke arn Cari co
ACKN OWLED G M E NTS
I
WISH to acknowledge the use of so ngs from the
follo wi ng authors ! Jam es Barton Adams , Charle s
B ad g er Clark, Larry Chi tte nd en , Alic e Corb i n ,
Au s ti n Corcoran , J W Foley , Henr y Herb e rt
Kni bb s , Phi l Le No i r
’
”
A Cowboy s Prayer
A Border Afia ir, and
Hi gh- Chi n Bob are publi s hed by permi s si on of
Ri chard G Badger fr om Sun a nd Sa ddl e Lea the r,
“
”
”
by B a dg er Clark ;
Sky Hi gh ;
Ol d Hank ;
“
“
“ ’
”
The Li ttl e Cow girl ; Pecos Tom
L i ght ,
”
“
“
’
”
Str ang er , Li g ht ;
Women Outlaws ;
Old
“
”
Pai nt , a nd What ’ s B ecome of th e Puncher s ? ”
by N Howard Tho rp , were pu b li s he d i n P oe tr y !
A M a g az i ne of Ve rs e i n August , 1 92 0 ; a nd Phi l
’
“
’
”
“
’
Le N oi r s
Ol Dynami te a nd
D own on the 01
Bar - G i n th e sam e numb er of the maga zi ne The
“
”
b
s
i
i
cow oy ver on of H g h Chi n B ob , by Char le s
B ad g er Clark, was publi s hed i n Poe tr y i n August ,
“
’
’
1 91 7 He nry Herb ert Kni b b s s P unchi n D ough
appear ed i n the Po p ul a r M a g a z i ne
Phi l Le N oi r is the author of Rhy m es of the Wi ld
a nd
Wooll y !Phil Le N oir, Las Veg as ,
Charles Badger Clark, of Sun a nd Sa ddle
Le a ther and G ras s G ro w n Tra ils ! Ri chard G
B adg er , Bosto n) ; Henry Herb ert Knibbs , of Songs
of the O utl a nds , Ri de rs of the S ta rs and So ngs of
the Tra il ! Houg hton M i fll i n Company , Bosto n)
.
.
.
.
.
,
.
.
.
.
.
viii
ACKNOWLED GM E NTS
L a rry C hi tte nden, author of
The Cowboy s ’
Chr i s tm a s Ball i n thi s volume , has a book of
’
so ng s c a lle d Ra nch
! G P Putnam s Sons ,
New York)
.
.
.
N E
.
.
T
.
CO NTE NTS
ARIZ ONA B O Y S AND G IRLS THE
ARRO Y O AL S cow F ON Y
BIBLI C AL C O WB O Y THE
BILLY THE KID or WILLIAM H B ONNEY
BOOZ ER THE
B ORD ER AFF AIR A
BRON C PEELER S SON G
BR ON co JAC K S THANK S G IVIN G
B IICRIN G BRON C O
B UCKS KI N JOE
C ALIF ORNIA TRAIL
CAM P FIRE HAS G ONE OUT THE
C HAS E OF THE 0 L c STEER
,
’
-
,
.
,
,
’
’
-
,
C HUC K-TIM E ON THE R UN D-UP
COW CAM P ON THE RAN G E A
C O WB O Y AT C HUR C H THE
C O WB O Y AT W ORK THE
C OWB O YS C HRIST M AS BALL THE
C OWB OY S DRE AM THE
C O WB O Y S LAM ENT THE
C OWB OY S LIFE THE
C OWB OY S M EDITATION THE
-
,
,
,
’
,
’
,
’
,
’
,
’
,
C W
PRAYER A
C OWB OY S PRIZ E A
C O WBO Y S VI CTIM IZE D
C OWM AN S F RA YER THE
O
B O Y’ S
,
’
,
’
,
CO N TE NTS
x
CR O OKE D
CROSSIN G
TRAIL TO H OLB ROOK,
THE DI VID
E
DAN TAYLO R
EER H UN T A
DOWN ON THE C D B AR G
DRE ARY DREARY LIFE THE
D H N G C OWBO Y THE
EN D OF THE YA! UI TRAIL TH E
FATE OF THE B EEF STEER THE
D
,
-
,
,
,
,
,
FIG HTIN ’ M AD
F ORG ET TH E E AST
FRIJOLE BEAN SE S
G AL I LE FT B E H I N D M E THE
G ET ALON G LITTLE D O G IE S
G OL DARN E D WH EEL TH E
G RE ASER JO E S PLACE
G RE AT R OUN D UP TH E
H E LL IN TE ! AS
H E LL BOUN D TRAI N THE
H I G H C H IN B OB
JOHN G ARN ER S TRAIL H E RD
JOLLY C OWB O Y TH E
,
,
-
,
’
-
,
-
,
-
’
,
LAST LON G H O RN , THE
E G AS REUNI ON
“
LI G H T STRAN G E R LI G HT
LITTLE AD OB E C ASA
LITTLE CO W G IRL THE
LITTLE JOE THE WRAN G LE R
LOV E O N THE RAN G E
M AN N AM E D H OD S A
M ULE SKI N N E RS TH E
LAS V
’
’
,
,
-
,
,
,
-
,
M USTAN G G RAY
E
M Y LITTL
B RO
WN
M U LE
N E W N ATI ON AL AN TH
EM
CO N TE N TS
E
E
N IG G R
LASS S ”
EE B LO CK
TH R
!
USTER
H ERDIN G SON G
NI G HT—
OLD CH I SH OLM TRAIL
O LD C OWM AN THE
OL DYN AM ITE
-
B RON
CO
B
,
THE
,
’
OLD G RAZIN ’ B E N
OLD H AN K
O LD N ORTH
PAI N T
O LD PAIN T
OLD TI M E C OWB O Y
“
OLD TR OUB LE ” A L RAN C H C OLORE D C OOK
ON TH E D O DG E
OVE RLAND STAG E THE
PEC OS RIVE R ! UEEN THE
PEC OS TO M
PRAIRIE SON G A
PROSPECTOR THE
PUN CHIN DO U G H
RAILR OAD C ORRAL THE
RAM B LIN G C OWB O Y THE
OLD
-
,
,
,
,
,
’
,
,
SAM BASS
SKY-H I G H
SON G OF THE RAN G
E
.
A
PECKLE S
TEN TH OU SAN D TE ! AS RAN G ER S
TEN DERF OOT THE
TE ! AS C O WB O Y THE
THAN KSG IV IN G ON TH E RAN C H
TH RE E BLO C K TOM
S
,
,
-
TOP H AND
U S U RAN G E THE
WE STERN LIFE
,
xi i
CO NTE NTS
WE STWAR D H O !
WH AT S B EC OM E OF TH E PUN CH E RS?
WH E N B OB G OT TH ROWE D
WH OSE OLD cow r
WIN DY BILL
W O M E N OuTLAw s
Z EB RA DUN THE
’
,
IN TRODU CTIO N
WE talk i n th e Ea s t of a publi c for poetry and when
,
we us e thi s term we are u s ually thi nki ng of the pub
li c that wi ll , or w i ll not , b e prevai led upo n to buy the
books of poetr y r eg ular ly i s sued by the stan d ar d
Ea s tern publi s her s But there i s i n thi s country a
co ns i derable pu b li c for poetry of whi ch no account
i s taken i n th e yearly summ a r i e s of The P ubl is he rs
Wee kl y; that i s , the publi c th a t e nj oys an d creates
folk poetry i n the Uni ted States , a publi c much
larger and more vari ed than we i m a gi ne In thi s
co nn ecti on we have th e story of a cowboy down on
hi s luck who had a collecti o n of cowboy so ng s
p ri nted ! s ome of whi ch he had wri tte n him s elf ) a nd
sold enoug h copi es of the li ttl e volume to s e t hi m
’
n
s elf up i n bu s i e s s a g ai n Thi s do e s n t me a n that
“
—
he sold enoug h to buy a new outfit
a forty
d ollar saddl e on a twenty- d ollar hor s e
an d st art
punchi ng cattle agai n No ; the sum made on the
li ttle pape r- covered volum e was very much more
tha n that ; i t would hav e m ad e a ny E a s ter n poet
j ealous And the book was s old , not at n ews s tand s
or book store s , but , li ke the old bro ad- s heet b a l
lad s , a t cow camp s and round-ups and cattle fai r s
The title of thi s li ttl e book w a s So ngs of the Cow
bo ys , the collector , N Howard Thorp , and the b ook
w a s set up by an Es tanci a pri nt- shop i n 1 908 Mr
Thorp himself was the autho r of fiv e of the songs
.
’
'
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-
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xiv
INTRODUCTION
i n thi s volume , later included i n Mr John A Lo
.
.
” “
max s collecti o n of Co w bo y So ngs
Chopo ,
The
” “
”
P eco s Ri v er ! ueen,
Li ttle Joe , th e Wrang ler
“
”
Whos e ol d C ow ? a nd Speckle s , thi s la s t re
’
pri nted i n Mr Lom a x s book unde r the t i tle of
”
“
Freckle s ; A Fra g me nt , ju s t a s i t came from the
hands of the local pri nter who had lo s t half the copy
The pre s ent collecti o n i s , therefore , a n e nlar g e d
e d i ti on of thi s li ttle volume of 1 908, wi th much ne w
materi al , not the lea s t i ntere s ti ng of whi ch are th e
twe nty-fiv e so ng s by the author
As a cowboy poet , N Howard Thorp — b etter
“
”
known as Jack Tho rp to hi s many fr i e nd s i n the
Southwe s t
i s th e ge nui ne thi ng H e i s a n old
time cattleman and cowp uncher , a nd hi s song s
ar e the frui t of exp er i ence H i s gi ft i s insti ncti ve
and na i ve , li ke that of a ll r eal cowboy poet s , and
“
its char m i s pr eci sely i n i ts fre s h and unliterary ”
quality
’
.
.
.
.
.
-
.
.
.
How long hav e you b een in thi s country ? ” I
“
a s ked Jack Thorp one day s oon after I met hi m
We wer e s i tti ng on the well - curb i n the plaza of an
Ind i an pueblo watchi ng a Rai n- Danc e
You s ee thos e c edar s up there on the hill s ? ” he
s a i d , looki ng a b o v e the roof tops to the foothi lls
“
”
Well , I plante d them
It w a s a typ i cal cowboy an s wer , ev as i v e a nd s y m
holi c , and it i n di cated p erfectly well th a t he mi g ht b e
reg ar ded as pa rt of the soi l The cowboy doe s n’ t
“
”
loosen up unti l he knows you fair ly well Wh en
he does , it is u s ually wo rth whi le I recall now i n
“
”
’
numerabl e r emini sc ences of Jack Thorp s wh en
“
.
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-
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.
INTROD U CTIO N
xv
he w a s in more expan s i ve mood , of whi ch I Wi s h
I could gi v e the e x act to ne and flav or
“
”
H i s account of the Sooners at th e op eni ng up
’
of the In di an Terri tory
Guthr i e s fir s t ci ti z e n !
’
The hour s et for taki ng up clai m s w a s twelve o clock
i n the mo rni n g ; but whe n they cam e upon thi s old
man at noon he had thr e e acre s ploug hed wi th a
pai r of o x e n, whi ch he clai med to hav e do ne s i nc e
s unri s e ! H i s s tori es of the early day s i n L i ncoln
County, New M e xi co — Pat Garrett unv ei led ! s e e
“
”
post s cript to B i lly the Ki d, by whi ch there hang s
a tale)
Runni ng d own a b unch of s tolen cattle
thr oug h th e Four C orners country , i e , Arizona ,
s ome of th e
N ew M exi co , Colora d o , and Utah
wi lde s t country s ti ll to b e found i n the s e States
“
Old day s i n the backwoo d s i n Te x a s , s cene of The
“
”
Little Cow girl , where they may not know th e
nati onal anthem , but they all know Turkey i n the
”
Str aw
Early ti mes along an d acro s s the M e x
’
ican border , when headin we s t from San Antone
was a part of the regular ritual
Al s o an er p e
ri e nce of only a few year s b a ck, which , a s i t i llu s
trates a b i t of i nternati onal di plomacy , may b e
worth telli ng here
Mr Thorp w a s d ri vi ng s ome cattle from Old M e x
i co up to Lamy , n ear Santa Fe As i t h a ppe ne d , h e
w a s unarme d , s i nc e on the way down from Tuc s o n,
Arizona , to El Sa s ab e on the li ne , he fell i n wi th a
pri e s t who u s ed up all th e ammuni ti on for Thorp s
Fi ndi ng when he g ot
s i x gun s h ooti ng prai ri e dogs
’
to El Sa s ab e that he coul d n t g e t any more car
tri dg e s of the ri g ht s i z e , Tho rp to s s e d th e gun i nto a
’
dr awe r of the p ri e s t s s ecretary , and went i nto M ex
.
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xvi
INTRODUCTIO N
wi th two other m e n whom he had hir ed on the
b order Hav i ng found th e her d a nd starte d back
wi th i t, the s e thr e e met a company of about forty
Villi s ta s The r a g ged g e neral ! nothi ng lower than a
“
’
Ar e
g e neral i n V i lla s army ) accosted the outfit
“
” “
”
Ye s
you arme d ? he a s k e d Thorp
And your
“
” “
”
Who g ave you
Agai n Thorp s ai d , Ye s
m en?
”
the ri ght to carry arm s i n M e xi co ? a s k e d th e g e n
“
”
Th e Gov er nor of the State of Texa s , sai d
eral
J a ck There w a s a worl d of remem b ere d hi s tory i n
that answ er , and the g eneral , i n spi te of hi s s up e
ri or number s , p ermi tte d them to pa s s unmole s te d ,
though eye i ng the cattl e hungr i ly If Thorp had
sai d , The Pre s i d ent of the Uni te d State s , ” i t would
have been of s mall avai l , a s the Republi c of Texa s
i s s ti ll far more real to mo s t M e xi c ans than i s our
flouri s hi ng Uni on, of whi ch i t i s now a mem b er
All thi s i s b ut a s ugg e s ti o n of th e extraor di nary
ri chne s s of a li fe li v e d d uri n g the fronti er peri o d i n
the So u thwe s t
a peri o d th a t i s , happi ly , not yet
ende d , althoug h ol d ti mer s wi ll tell you, a s th e ol d
s ettler i n the Org an Mountai ns s ai d , whe n he found
a few cattle wi th s tr an g e b r and s str ayi ng i nto his
“
’
’
ei g hty mil e s oli tude , It s g etti n too crowded here
’
”
ue
s
I
s
11
h
a
ve
to
move
o
n
g
Monotono u s on the s urf a ce , the cowboy ’ s lif e i s
u s ually an a dv e nturou s one When I a s ke d Mr
Thorp for a s k etch of hi s li fe , he s ai d , “ Ju s t s a y
’
th a t I v e b e en ev erythi ng but a telegr aph Op erator
”
’
f
or a pre a cher
B
ut
i
he
ha
h
e
s n t pre a che d
!
,
o nce g av e a s eri e s of lectur e s on the Holy Land
wi th s tereoptico n s li de s ! )
Th e task of trying to gi ve a po rtr ait of a man of
i co
.
.
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.
.
.
.
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xvi i
INTRODUCTION
thi s character is like trying to gi v e a compo s ite
pi c tur e of Te x as , New M exi co , Ari z o na , and th e
In di an Terri to ry during the la s t thirty year s
.
The hundred song s that mak e up this book ar e
typ i cal an d g enui ne cowboy s ong s ; the river and
hobo and outlaw so ng s th a t ar e al s o a part of th e
’
c owboy s repertory havi ng b e en omi tted A numb er
of so ng s that b elo ng more speci fically to th e C en
tr al St a tes have al s o b een om i tted Wherever po s
s i ble , Mr Thorp has give n the nam e s of the authors
of th e s o ngs and , when th es e co uld not b e di s cov
e r e d , th e cowboy s who san g them , o r th e plac e
where he found them
The fact that mo s t of the s e songs ar e of known
author s hi p , or tha t som e of th em app eared ori gi
nally in pr i nt , i n no w a y l e s sens the i r ge nui n e folk
quali ty Otherwi s e , many of th e old E ng li s h and
Irish broad sheet balla ds whi ch hav e come down to
us throug h oral tr adi ti on, but wer e , as th e term in
di ca te s , or i gi nally pri nted , co ul d not b e calle d folk
so ng s !As i ndub i ta b l e example s of folk- s o ngs
with a pri nted o ri gi n and of i ndi v i d ual author s hi p ,
“
one may me nti o n th e
S uwane e Ri ver ” an d Ol d
”
Ke ntucky Home and other s o ng s by Stephen
“
”
Fo s ter
Auld Lan g Syne i s another folk s o ng ,
whi ch , i f the ide nti ty of i ts c elebrated author were
for g otte n, would b e include d in all the folk-lor e
collecti ons )
The mor e one e x ami nes th e evidenc e , the more
one i s co nvinced that i t is th e us e of a so ng , rather
than i ts o ri gi n , whi ch dete rmi nes what i s known a s
folk - so ng Conditio ns favorab l e to the p r od uction
.
.
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.
-
.
.
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INTRODUCTION
xviii
o r preservati on of folk s o ng ar e ! a commun a l uni ty
of i nterest or occup a ti on, and a certa i n degr e e of
i s olati on from the larger worl d of afiai rs , a nd from
conti nuou s co ntact wi th pr i nted s ources Thes e are
the cond i ti ons whi ch produced th e cowboy songs
pro b a b ly our lar g e s t bo dy of nati ve folk s ong s , ex
cept , of cour s e , the folk s o ng s of negr o s ourc e o r
i nspi ra ti o n ! The s o ng s of the Ameri can Indi a ns
ar e a v ai la b le onl y i n tr ans lati on )
Cow b oy s o ng s ar e , g ener ally s peaki ng , of two
types ; fir s t , s o ng s tr ans mi tte d b y purely or a l tradi
t i o n ; a nd , s econd , s ong s ori gi nally pr i nted , cli ppe d
from a local new s paper or mag az ine , fitte d to a i a
mi lia r ai r, and s o h a nded down from one cowboy to
another , becomi ng g enui ne folk s ong s i n the proce s s
D ur i ng the tr ans i ti o n a ce rtai n a mount of re s ha p
i ng often takes place Ver s es m a y b e a dd e d or left
out , or the wordi ng a ltered
thes e chan g e s us u
all y te ndi n g toward a gr e a ter s i mpli ci ty an d d i rect
ness a nd a more graphi c cow b oy li n g o A1 ) i nter
e s ti ng recent e xa mple of s uch a re s h api ng thr oug h
’
oral tran s mi s s i on i s furni s hed by Ba d g er Cl a rk s
“
The Glory Trai l , ” sun g amo ng the cowboy s i n
“
n
s outhern Ar i zo a un d er the titl e of
Hi gh- Chi n
”
Bob
The di fference s b etween the two ver s i ons may b e
noted by referr in g to the or i g i nal in Mr Cl a r k ’ s
Sun a nd Sadd le Le a the r Ob v i ou s ly s ome one
foun d th e s o ng s omewhere i n pr i nt , adapted i t to a
fami li ar tune , a nd pa s s e d i t on Thi s i s the hi s tory
of a numb er of the s o ng s Ag ain , other s h ave b e en
’
k
n
b ui lt upo n well now ai r s ; The Cowboy s Dre a m ”
“
i s sung to the tune of
My Bonni e Li es Over th e
-
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INTRODUCTION
xx
Sleep a dereli ct bec a use Rons ard fath ered it
In thi s connecti o n i t i s i ntere s ti n g to s e e the cro p
p i ng - up of an ol d theme , althoug h perfectly un
co ns ci ou s ly and wi th no de b t to Vi llo n, i n Mr
Thorp ’s “ What ’ s Become of th e Puncher s We
”
Rode wi th Lo ng Ago ? Thi s i s a ca s e , not of b or
rowi ng , but of the eternal recurre nce of certain old
themes
To t e s t Ameri can cowboy s ong s by the fine s t
flower of E ng li s h or Europ ean bal ladry , a s i s som e
ti me s d o ne by d i s ti ngui shed folk-lore s tude nt s who
come over her e to obtai n s urv i val s of the i r ow n
song s , in the Ke ntucky mountai ns and el s ewhere ,
i s of cour s e a mi s tak e Cowboy ball ads repre s ent
a folk tr a di ti on s ti ll i n th e maki ng
thei r gr eate s t
anti q ui ty i s o nly a li ttl e over a half century
and
the European ballad s ar e s ev eral ce nturi e s ol d , and
hav e the a dvanta g e of a li terary tr a di ti o n ev en ol d er
Indeed , thi s tr a di ti o n i s s o d i s ti nctly li ter ary i n
ori gi n that , but for th e oral us e a nd tr an s mi s s i on of
the s o ng s , one mi g ht he s i t a te to call th em folk—
s o ng s !
“
B u t to s a y , a s Mr C ec i l Sharp doe s , that The cow
boy ha s b een d e s po i le d of hi s inh eri tanc e of tr a
di ti onal s o ng ; he ha s nothi ng b e hi nd hi m , ” i s a g ai n
a mi s take Ther e ar e var i ou s d egr ee s of sophi s
ti ca ti on amo ng th e cowboy s , as one can s e e i n
the s e s o ng s J am e s Ru s s ell Lowell , whe n he wrote
“
”
i
the B glow P a per s , w a s not there b y de s poil e d
of hi s li terary i nheri tanc e , nor was John H ay whe n
“
he wrote Ji m B l ud s o, ” or Charle s G odfrey Leland
when he wrote the H a ns B re i tm a nn B a ll ads Th e
l ac k of li terary a s s oci ati o ns i n the co w b oy s ong s i s
not neces s ari ly an indi cat i on of a co rr espon di ng lack
”
“
.
.
.
.
-
.
.
.
.
xxi
INTROD UCTION
of tr adi ti on or backgr oun d i n thei r compo s ers Am er
ican cowpuncher s have , inde e d , b een drawn from
all walk s i n li fe , but the m a jor i ty of them b elo ng
to th a t same p i oneer stock whi ch settle d the
E a s t , the M i d dle West , the Far We st , a nd the
Southwe st , i n turn ; th e s ame sort of pi o neer stock
that produced Mark Twai n a nd Bret Harte
“
’
Whatever the cowboy s i nher i tance of tradi
may or may not have b een ! a nd i t was
ti ona l song
that of th e general Amer i can publi c of the p eri o d ),
the fact that count s i s hi s creati on of a new tr adi
t i on
a tra d i tio n of whi ch the s e so ngs ar e the
most authe nt i c record W hat one appreci a tes i n
the surv i val s of the old E ng li sh folk s ong s i s pr e
ci s el y th e li terary as soci ati o n, a nd the i r b eauti
fully s i mple but hi g hly evolve d poeti c form B ut
the as sociati ons of cowboy so ng s are d i rectly local
and immediate , and perhaps thes e can b e a p p re ci
ated fully only by thos e familiar wi th the lif e that
has produced them
It i s qui te tr ue that the world of the cowboy songs
is les s i magi nary than actua l It was a concret e
’
—
he could n t escap e
wo rld the cowboy li ved i n
too much i nto the world of the i magi nati on If h e
di d , he mi g ht for g et and let the old cow di e bo gg ed
down , or sli de t o p erdi ti on from th e back of the
bucki ng bronco H i s world i s not, i t i s true , pe o
pled wi th fai r i e s or g ho s tly appari ti ons or kni ghts
i n steel armor Instead , he wr i tes of dying lo ng
horns , buffa lo e s , mule - Ski nner s , bucki ng bro ncos ,
stamp e d i ng cattle , an d hi s har d-handed compani on s
of the trai l a nd chuck- w a g on H i s armor i s hi s own ,
and he celeb r ates it
chap s , slicker , spur s , saddle
.
.
-
.
-
.
.
.
.
.
,
.
.
INTRODUCTION
reata , and horse Hi s li fe is
cattle ; but tho s e
who thi nk thi s li fe pros a i c ov erlook the hi dden ro
m ance , the lonely an d tragi c an d humorou s eve nt s
of the round-up , the lo ng trai l dr i ve , o r the ni ght
w a tch
Whe never the cowboy poet de s ert s the actual
world , i t i s to dre a m o f a cowboy heave n ! And ,
after all , was not ju s t such an ar b i tr ar i ly arrang e d
’
heaven the b as i c f a br i c of Dante s dream ?) D uri ng
the lo ng ni ght-w a tch , the cowboy look s up throug h
the clear atmo s phere to th e s tar b e s pri nkle d hea v
e ns and wo nd ers about the Hereafter in terms
amu s i ngly tr an s late d from hi s dai ly occupati on !
.
-
.
.
-
And I m s care d tha t I l l be a s tray y e a rl i ng
A m a ve ri ck u nb ra nd e d on h ig h
!
"
And g e t cu t i n the bu nch w i th the rus ti es
’
’
,
,
Wh en the bos s of
the
rid ers g oes
by
.
He carried the same te rmi nology i nto hi s court
shi p song s , and indeed into al l his song s , and
thereby create s or perp etuate s a new i di om ! In fact
th e cowboys have contr i buted a new idi om to our
nati o nal speech We never have a bi g party con
“
Pol
v e nti on wi thout certai n hea d li nes appeari ng !
‘
‘
i ti ci ans mi lli ng around
leaders afr ai d of a stam
’
pede
About thi s i d i om i n hi s so ng s , th e cowboy
po et i s far mor e exacti ng than about any que s ti on
of rhyme or meter ; a nd any d epartur e from the
correct vernacular or han d li n g of the var i ous leath
e rs i s at o nce d etected as a mar k of the tende rfoo t
poet
The tradition is , then , i ntact in these cowboy
s ongs , and w e may accept them for what they ar e
.
.
.
.
INTRODUCTION
xiii
x
nai v e re cord s of the har d an d fre e li fe on the ra nge ,
cele b rat i ng such a dventur es as b elo ng to vi r gi n
s o i l , p i o neer har d s hi p s , dangers , and fun
Fun i s ,
i nd eed , one of th e chi ef characteri s ti cs of the s e
s o ng s , and i t i s a fun that i nclu d es the same s ort
of humorous exa gg erati on i n whi ch Mar k Twai n
e x celled
My e x cu s e for touchi ng , in thi s i ntroduction,
upon the pe d a g o gi cal folk aspect of these s ongs ,
whi ch depend s , afte r all , upo n thei r spontaneous
appeal to tho s e for whom they wer e wri tte n, is
simply that , in appropri a te phraseology , I would
“
”
r ather b e caug ht heeled , and these ar e questions
whi ch wi l l undoubte dly crop up i n conne cti on wi th
the book
But tho s e who know and appreci ate the life cel
e bra te d i n the s e so ng s wi ll need no i ntr oducti on
o r expla nati on ; and i t i s for such readers and old
ti mer s parti cular ly that th e b ook is i ntended If
Mr Thorp had wri tte n a preface for the book , hi s
ge s t ur e woul d probably have be en as si mple as
th a t of the M a yor of Las Vegas , who sai d at the
“
recent Cowboy Reuni o n,
The town i s your s ,
”
Boys , ta ke care of i t
ALI C E C ORB IN HE NDERSON
.
.
-
.
.
.
.
Sa nta F e
N e w M ex i co
S ONG S OF THE COWB OY S
THE ARIZO NA B OYS AND G IRLS
Don t kno w the au thor H e ard i t s u ng by Ki l t
De m i ng , N e w M e xi co
’
.
Col li ns
in
.
Come , al l of you p eople , I pray you dr aw near ,
’
A comi ca l di tty I prom i s e you ll hear
The b oy s i n thi s coun try they try to advanc e
By co urti ng the ladie s and learning to d ance
.
.
boy s i n thi s country they try to b e pl ai n
Tho s e word s tha t you hear you m ay hear them
agai n
Wi th twi ce as much added on if you can
’
’
There s many a boy who thinks he s a man
The
.
.
They ll go to the i r par ties , thei r whi skey they l l
take ,
’
And out i n the dark thei r bottle s they ll break ;
’
’
“
You ll hear one s ay , There s a bottl e round here ;
’
”
So come ar ound , boys , and we ll all take a shar e
’
’
.
There i s some we ar s shoe s and s ome wear s boots ,
’
But there ar e very few that ri d e s who don t s hoot ;
’
’
More than thi s I ll tell you what they ll do ,
’
They ll get them a watch and a rang e r hat too ;
Th ey ll go i n the hall wi th spur s on thei r he el ;
’
They ll g et them a par tn er to dance the next r eel ,
’
SONGS OF THE C OWB OYS
2
S aying, “ How do I look i n my ne w brown s ui t ,
”
Wi th my p ant s s tufi e d down i n the top of my boot ?
Now , I thi nk i t s qui te ti me to leave off the s e
la d s ,
’
For here are s ome gi rls th a t s full y as bad ;
’
They ll tri m up thei r dre s se s and curl up their
hai r ,
’
And li ke an old owl for e the looki ng- g las s star e
’
.
The g i rls in the country they g ri n li ke a cat ,
’
And wi th gi gg li ng and laug hi ng don t know where
’
they re a t ;
’
’
They thi nk they re pr e tty , and I tell you they re
wi s e ,
’
But they could n t get m arri ed to s ave the i r two ey es
.
’
You can tell a good g i rl wherever she s found ;
No tri mmi ng , no laces , no no nsense aroun d ;
Wi th a long eared bonnet ti e d under her chi n,
’
She ll marry you i f you ar e broke or i f you have the
-
They ll g o to church wi th thei r s nuff- bo x in hand ,
’
They ll g i v e i t a tap to make i t look grand ;
P erhap s there i s another one or two
’
’
’
And they ll pa s s i t ar o und and i t s Madam , won t
”
you?
’
Now , I thi nk i t s quite time for thi s d i tty to e nd ;
’
If there s any one here that i t wi ll o ff end ,
’
If there s any one here that thi nk s i t ami s s ,
Just come round and give the s i nger a ki s s
’
.
4
SONGS O F
rua niu
a—
TH E
C OWB OYS
And he came
to me and I jump e d upon
hi s back ,
And he pi tched for s heer enj oyment when I hit hi s
flank a whack
’
.
Well , I rod e acro s s the open and I stooped down on
the run ,
And p i cke d up th e polo mallet ! fer the player he
was done ),
An d I hit th a t ball a crack, sir , and it s ai led plum
’
o e r the fence ,
And the crowd jus t howled wi th pleasur e , fer they
thought the s port i mmense
.
Well , it cost me ju s t six hundr ed fe r to git my li ttle
bro nk ,
And to have that player patched up from hi s heel s to
i nj ured conk ;
But I got my old cow- pony
and j est hear this one
thing more !
’
”
’
D on t whi s per polo to him o r h e l l buck lik e
Satan , shore !
THE BIB LICAL C OWB O Y
Sent m e by Ji m H ag an,
of
Tuls a, Okl ahom a
All day long on the prai rie s I ri d e ,
Not even a d og to tr ot by my s i de ;
My fir e I ki nd le wi th chi ps g athered round ,
My coffee I boi l wi thout b ei ng g round
.
I was h in a pool and wi p e on a sack ;
I ca rry my war dr ob e all on my back ;
TH E
BIBLICAL C OWB OY
5
For want of an ove n I cook bread i n a pot ,
And sle ep on the gr ound for want of a cot
.
My
My
My
My
ce i li ng the sky , my floo r i s the grass ,
mu s i c i s the lowi ng herd s a s they pa s s ;
books ar e the brooks , my sermons the ston e s ;
par son the wolf on hi s pulpi t of bones
.
And then , if cooking i s not complete ,
’
You can t bl a me me for wanti ng to eat
But Show me a man that sleep s more profound
Than the b i g puncher —
boy str etchi ng out on the
gr ound
.
.
My books te a ch me ever con s i s tence to p ri z e ,
My s ermo ns that s mall thi ng s I shoul d not de s p i se ;
My p arso n remarks from hi s p ul p i t of bone s
That fortune favo r those who look out for thei r own
s
.
And then b etw een m e and lo v e li e s a g ulf wide
Some lucky fellow m a y call her hi s bri d e
My fri end s g ently hi nt I a m co m i ng to gr i ef,
But men mu s t make money an d women have b eef
.
But Cupi d i s al way s a fr i end to the bold ,
An d the b e s t of hi s arrow s ar e po i nted wi th g old
As s oci ety b ans me , s o s avage I dodg e ,
And the Masons would ball me out of thei r lodg e
.
.
If I had h ai r on my chin I mi ght pa s s for the goat
That bore all the s i ns i n the a g es r emote ;
But why i t i s I cannot understand ,
That each of th e patr iar chs owned a b i g brand
.
.
S ONGS OF THE C OWB OYS
6
Abraham emi grated i n search of a range ,
And when water w a s s c arce he w ante d a change ;
Ol d I s aac owned cattle i n char g e of Esau ,
And Jacob punched cows for hi s father -i n—
law
.
He started in bu s i ne s s way down at b ed r ock,
And made qui te a s take at handli ng stock ;
Then D avid went from ni ght-herdi ng to usi ng a
sli ng ;
And wi nni ng the battle he b e came a gr eat ki ng ;
Then the shephe r ds , while her di ng the sheep on a
hi ll ,
Got a me s s age from heav e n of p eac e and go od
wi ll
.
BILLY THE KID
or
WILLIAM H B O NNE Y
.
By
N Howar d Th orp
.
Do wn i n Li ncol n the na ti ve w om e n s ti l l
care th ei r c hil
d ren w i th the th re a t tha t B ili to will com e a nd g e t th em if
they don t be ha ve
s
’
.
’
Bu s tin down the canyon,
Hor s es on the run,
Po s s e ju s t behi nd them ,
’
T w a s June fir s t , s eve nty - one
.
Sa d dle guns in s cabbards ,
Pi s tols on s ad dle bow ,
’
The boy s were ri di n fo r their live s
The Kid en Alia s Joe
.
Thi rty mi les west of the Gi la
They bade the poss e good- bye ,
’
For they coul d n t keep up with th e
We i g ht Ki ds ,
’
Now matte r how har d they d tr y
.
From the land of th e Montezuma ,
Pa s t the hi ll s of the M og oll ons ,
By ni ght en day they made the i r way
Ti ll they lande d i n Tomb s tone
.
Thos e were fro nti er tow ns , old pardner ;
’
T was a game of take e n gi ve ,
And the one who could d raw the fastest
’
Was the only one who d live
.
Whi s key en women en poke r ,
Monte e n Far o en S tud ,
’
Just a short wi ld race , who d keep the pace
Woul d land in a ri ver of blood
.
Fi g hti n
’
en
’
dri nki n
en
’
g ambli n
,
N i gg er en M e x e n White ;
’
T w a s a r i ot of s i n, let the best man Wi n ;
’
T was dr i nk , whe n called , or fig ht
.
En
ev ery one clai med a woman,
Though no ne of the i r clai m s would s tand
’
’
Gai ns t the Ki d , who w a s quicker n li g htning
Wi th a gun in e i ther hand
.
B eli eving that John H Tunstall
Wa s the man who was i n the ri g ht ,
.
S O NG S OF THE C OWB OYS
8
He
In
ervi ce s
the Li ncoln County fig ht
ofl ere d
hi m hi s
s
.
The Ki d rode wi th Brewer s po s s e
’
Who aveng ed John Tuns ta l l s lo s s ,
Ki lli ng Wi lli am Morton , e n Bake r
Rob erts en Jo e Ross
’
.
Locked in the D olan house in Lincoln ,
Then u s ed as a county j ai l ,
Handcuff ed e n wi th a double g uar d ,
Tra i li ng a ball en chai n ,
He ki l led hi s guar d s , B ell en Oli ng er ,
In the jai l yard i n dayli g ht ,
Stole the hor s e of the probate clerk
En on him made hi s fli g ht
.
Caught a -napp i ng at la s t i n Sum n er ,
’
In Pete Maxwell s room one ni ght ,
Not knowi ng he w a s waylai d ,
Not knowi ng wi th whom to fig ht ;
A chance s hot fired by Garrett ,
A cha nce s hot that found i ts m a rk ;
’
T w a s lucky for P a t the Ki d showed plain ,
Whi le Garrett w a s hi d i n the dark
.
If Garrett was g ame , I don t know it ;
He never appeared so to me ;
If any of you fellow s thi nk s o,
’
I ll refer you to Oli ver Le e
’
.
P S Ol i ver, if y ou happe n to s ee th is ,
the wa te r tank a nd dro wn m e
.
.
.
don ts hoot throug h
Jac k
’
THE BO OZER
9
THE B O OZER
Cut th is out of
a
Col orado ne ws paper
I m a howler fr om the prairies of the West !
If you want to di e wi th terror look at me !
’
’
I m chain li ghtni ng
if I ai n t , may I be bles s e d !
’
I m the snorter of the boundle s s pr a iri e !
’
He
’
He
’
He
’
s a
s
s
ki ll e r
a nd a
ha ter!
the g re a t a nni hi l a torl
a ter ro r of the bo undl es s
prai rie!
I m the snoo z er fr om the upp er tr ail !
’
I m the reveler in m ur der and i n gore !
I can bu s t more Pullman coache s on the rail
’
Than any one who s worked the j ob b efore
’
.
He
’
He
’
He
’
o
s a s n r te
s
s
r
oo z e r!
a nd a s n
the g rea t trunk l i ne a bus er!
the m a n w ho p uts the s l ee p e r on the
ra i l !
’
I m the double -jawed hyena from the East !
’
I m the blaz i ng b loody bli zzar d of the State s !
’
’
I m the celebrated slugg er ; I m the B ea s t !
I can s natch a man bal d- headed while he waits !
He
'
He
’
He
d ou bl e-ja we d hye na !
the vill a i n of the s c e na !
3 a
s
ca n s na tc h a
m a n ba ld-headed whi le he wai ts !
A B ORDER AFFAIR
Charle s B adg er Clark Jr
by Orvill e Cox 0 Taos Co w bo y
By
Sung
,
.
,
’
Spani s h i s the lovi n tongue ,
Soft as mu s i c , li g ht a s spray
’
T w a s a gi rl I lear nt i t from ,
’
Li vi n down Sonora way
’
I don t look much li ke a love r ,
Yet I s ay her love word s ove r
’
Often when I m all alone
“
”
M i amor , mi corazon
.
.
Ni ghts when s he knew where I ’ d rid e
She would li s ten fo r my spurs ,
Fli ng the bi g door open wi de ,
’
Rai s e them l a ughi n eye s of hers ,
An d my hear t would ni g h stop b e a ti n’
When I he a rd her tender g re e ti n’ ,
Whi s pered soft for me alone
“
Mi amor , mi coraz on !
Moonli ght i n the p a ti o ,
Ol d Se fiora nodd i n’ near ,
’
M e and Juana talki n low
So th e Madre coul d n’ t hear
How tho s e hour s wo ul d go a —
fl yi n’ !
’
And too s oon I d hear he r s i g hi n’
In her li ttle sorry tone
“
”
i
Ad os , mi coraz on !
But one t i me I ha d to fly
For a fooli s h gambli n’ fig ht ,
SO NGS OF THE C OWB OYS
1 2
I ’ ve never tasted home bread ,
Nor cake s nor mus s li ke that ;
But I know fr i ed dough and be e f
Pulled from red- hot tallow fat
.
I hate to se e th e wir e fenc e
- clo s i n’ up th e ran
A
ge ;
’
And all thi s filli n i n the tr ail
Wi th p eople that i s strang e
’
We feller s do n t know how to plough ,
Nor r eap the golden gr ai n ;
But to round up s teers and brand the cows
To us was al lu s plai n
.
.
So when thi s bla s ted country
Is all clo s ed i n wi th wi re ,
And all the top a s tr ot g ras s
’
’
Is burni n in Sol s fir e ,
I hope the settlers wi l l b e glad
Whe n rai n hi ts the land ,
And all us cow dog s ar e in hell
“
”
Wi th a s et joi ned ha nd i n hand
.
BRO NC O JACK S THANKSGIVIN G
’
Jame s B arton Adam s
H e ard this reci te d b y a y ou ng l ad y a t a Co w bo ys Re u ni o n
a t La s Veg as
N e w M ex i co a nd af te rw ards l e arne d the
a u thor s na m e
By
’
,
,
’
.
was this time j est a year ago on thi s Thanks
’
givi n Day,
’
’
That me an Bronco Jack stood up , an pa gav e m e
’
T
’
BRO NC O JACK S THANKSGIVING
1
3
An Parson B i lly s poke the words that mad e us
man and wi fe ,
To run as double -header team along the tr ai l of li fe
’
’
We had a comb i nati on fea s t , h a lf weddi n d i nner an
’
’
The other half Thank s gi vi n an I tell you it was
grand ;
’
An everybody that was there allowed the dance
j e s t tuk
The cake from any r anch event that they had ever
struck
’
.
.
’
’
’
They all kep sayin Jack was wild , an some allowe d
that he
’
Was hardly fit to s har e the li fe 0 s i ch gal a s me
’
’ ’
But I was of a reckle s s turn , a n tol em that I hop ed
’
To have s ucce s s i n tami n hi m when I had g ot hi m
rop ed
’
’
There s quite a chang e of fe eli n now , fe r eve r sence
the day ,
’
’
We j i ned our hands an tuk the vows to make a
double play ,
’
’
He s prove d a s g ood a hu s ban a s a woman ever g ot,
’
An all the gals i s j ealous of the thorrerb re d I
caught
.
.
.
’
The only thi ng that s rattled hi m was when the
Ma s te r s e nt
’
Tw o great bi g b ounci n baby twins to us ! the sai d
eve nt
’
’
Je s t s e e m i n fer to break him up , hi m sayin , sort
grufl r
one s i ch
0
That
,
inf ant music- box h e thought was
quite e nough ;
SONGS OF THE C OWB OYS
I4
’
But now he s sort
0
’
reconci led ! I
’
of n
hear him
Ab out em b ei n pedi gr e e d a n fancy blooded s tock ;
’
An thoug h he yi t hol d s to i t that I pl aye d i t r a ther
bol d ,
’
I know he woul d n t par t wi th one fer twi c e it s
we i g ht i n g old
’
’
’
.
’
As we was setti n here la s t
ni g ht a - talki n’
’
bout the
da y ,
An all that we was thankful fe r , I s ai d , in a jokin
way !
“
Now, tel l me , hone st Inj un , Jack, d ead ear ne s t
’
an fer fai r ,
’
’
—
If you ai n t fille d wi th grati tude a lookin at that
pai r ?
’
’
He gaz e d down at the s l e e p i n kid s a lay i n s i de by
s i de ,
’ ’
’
0
m
a
n
With what I so rt
gi e d was a look 0 daddy
pri d e
’
’
“
’
’
’
An sai d ! They re fine as s i lk an I ai n t makin
any roar ,
’
But I am m i ghty thankful that there was n t any
”
more !
’
’
-
.
B UCKIN G BRO NC O
By B elle Star, Indi an Terri tory
Wri tte n abou t 1 878 Song has b ee n e xpu rg ated by m e
The au thor w as a m e m b e r of a no tori ous g ang of ou t
.
a
l ws , but
a
very
.
big - h e ar te d wo m a n
.
I kne w he r we l l
.
My love i s a ri der , wi ld bro nco s he br eak s ,
’
Thoug h he s prom i sed to q ui t i t, ju s t for my sake
.
BUCKSKIN JOE
1
5
He ti e s up one foot , the saddl e puts on ,
Wi th a swi ng and a jump he i s mounte d and gone
.
The first ti me I met hi m , t was early one sp ri ng ,
Ri di ng a bronco , a hi g h headed thi ng
He ti pp e d me a wi nk a s he g ayly di d g o,
For he wi s he d me to look at hi s bucki ng bronco
’
-
.
.
The next time I saw hi m , t was late i n the fall ,
’
Swi ngi ng the gi rls at Tomli ns on s ball !
He laughed and he talked as we dance d to and
fro ,
Pr omi s e d never to ri de on anothe r bronco
’
.
He made me some pre s ent s , among them a r i ng ;
The return that I made hi m w a s a far b ette r thi ng ;
’
’
’
T was a youn g mai de n s heart , I d have you all
know
’
He d won i t by ridi ng hi s bucki ng bronco
.
Now , al l you young mai de ns , where er you r e s id e ,
B ewar e of the cow b oy who swi ng s the rawhide ,
’
He ll court you a nd p et you and leave you an d go
In the spri ng up the tr ai l on hi s bucki ng bron co
’
.
BUCKSKIN JOE
Au thor unkno wn
Fi rs t h ea rd th is re c i te d by a m e di ci ne
ve ndor i n Wa co Te xas on the pub l i c s q ua re
.
,
,
.
a c a lm and peaceful eveni ng i n a c amp called
Ar apahoe ,
And the whi s key was a -r unning wi th a s oft and
gentle fl ow ;
’
T was
'
I
6
S ONGS OF THE C OWB OYS
The mus i c was a ri ngi ng in a danc e hall cross the
way
And the d a ncers was a —
swi ngi ng just a s clo s e as
they coul d l ay
-
-
’
.
People gathere d round the table s a —
betti ng of
the i r wealth ,
And near by s tood a str anger who had come ther e
fo r hi s he al th
He was a p eaceful stranger , though he s eemed to
b e un s trung ;
’
’
For ju s t before he d left hi s home he d b e en sep
ara te d from one l ung
.
.
Near by at a t a ble sat a man name d Hankey D ean ,
A tougher man than Hankey leather chap s ha d
never s een
But H ankey was a gamble r and he sur e di d hate
to lose ;
And he had just par te d wi th a sun- dried stack of
blue s
.
.
He ar os e fr om the table , on the floor hi s la s t chi p
flung ,
And cast hi s fie ry g li mmers on the man wi th ju s t
one
l ung
.
No wonder I ve b een lo s i ng eve ry b et I mad e to
ni g ht
’
When a s ucker a nd a tenderfoot was twe en me
and the li g ht
’
.
Lo ok her e , li ttle str anger , do you know who I am?
’
”
Yes , and I don t care a c0pp er color e d damn
.
B UCKSKIN JOE
1
7
The de al ers stoppe d thei r dealing and the players
held thei r breath ;
For word s li ke tho s e to Hankey w er e a sudden fl i rt
wi th death
.
Listen , g entle str anger , I ll read my pe digre e
’
I m known fo r handli ng tenderfeet and worser
men than thee ;
’
Th e li ons on the mountains I ve dr ov e them to
thei r lai rs ;
’
The wi ld cats ar e my playmates and I ve wr estled
gr i zz ly bear s ;
’
Why , the centipedes can t sorter mar my tough old
hi de ,
And r attle s nake s have bi t me and crawled off and
di ed
’
I m as wi ld as the wi lde st ho r s e that eve r roame d
the rang e ;
The mos s gr ows on my teeth and wild blood flows
thr ough my veins
’
.
.
“
’
I m wi ld and woolly and ful l of fleas ,
And neve r curri e d b elow the knees
’
N ow , li ttl e str ang er , if you 11 g i ve me your addr ess
How woul d you li ke to go , by fa s t mai l o r expre s s ?
.
The li ttle str anger , who was leani ng a g ai nst the door ,
Pi cked up a hand of pl a yi ng cards that wer e scat
tere d on the floo r
’
Picki ng out the five 0 s pades , he p i nned i tto the door ,
And then stepp e d backwar d som e tw enty steps o r
more
.
.
1
S O NGS OF THE C O WB OYS
8
He pulled out hi s li fe- pre s erver a nd wi th a one ,
”
two , thr e e , four ,
Blotte d out a s pot wi th every p i s tol ro ar ;
For he had tr aveled wi th a ci rcu s , and had only quit
th a t day
I have one more left , ki nd s i r, i f you wi sh to call
”
the play
.
.
Then Hank stepp ed up to th e str anger , and thi s i s
the way he Spoke
Why , the li ons i n the mountains
that wa s
no thi ng b ut a j oke ;
Never mi nd about th e extr a
you ar e a bad shoot
i ng man ,
’
”
And I m a meek chi ld and as har mle s s as a lamb
.
CALIFORNIA TRAIL
By Kate
Chil ds !
Wri tten abou t 1 869
H
ors e
He
ad C
M ontana
u
Kate )
”
fi
I he grd i t s ng rs t on
ros s i ng , i n 1 900, by Sam M
.
at
“
Pe cos Ri ver
urray
.
Li s t , a ll you Cali forni a boys ,
And op en wi d e your ears ,
For now we start acro s s the plains
Wi th a herd of mule s and steer s
Now b ear i n mi nd , b efore you s tar t ,
’
That you ll eat j erked b eef , not ham ,
An d antelop e s teak , oh , cu s s the s tufi !
It often prove s a sham
.
.
You cannot find a s ti ck of wood
On al l thi s prai ri e wi de ;
’
’
Whe ne er you eat you ve g ot to stand
O r s i t on some old bull- hid e
.
,
20
SO NGS OF THE C OWB OYS
Ol d raw-hi d e s hoe s ar e hell on com
Whi le tramp i ng thr oug h th e sands ,
And dri vi ng a jacka s s by th e tai l
Damn the o v erland ,
I would as leaf b e on a r aft at s ea ,
And ther e at o nc e b e lost
’
John , let s le a ve th e poor old mul e ,
’
We ll never get hi m acros s
e
.
.
THE CAMP- FIRE HAS G ONE O UT
Auth or u nkno w n Fi rs t h e ard th is s u ng i n Sa n And re as
’
M ou nta i ns I th i nk i t w a s b y G e ne Rhodes
.
.
.
Thr oug h pro gres s of th e r ai lr oad s our oc cupation s
g one ;
So we wi ll put ideas into words , our wo r ds i nto a
song
Fir s t come s th e cowboy ; h e i s po i nted for the west ;
Of all the p i oneers I clai m th e cowboys ar e the b e st ;
’
You wi ll mi s s hi m on th e r ound up ; i t s gone , hi s
merry shout ,
The cowboy has left the country and the camp-fire
has gone out
’
.
.
There i s the fre i g hters , our compani ons ; you v e
g ot to leave thi s land ;
’
Can t drag your loa d s fo r nothing thr oug h th e
gumbo and the s and
The r ai lr oads ar e bound to b eat you when you d o
your level b e s t ;
So give i t up to th e gr ange r s and str ike out fo r the
west
’
.
.
CHASE OF THE 0 L C STEER
21
them all adi eu and gi ve the me rry shout ,
The cowboy ha s left th e country and the camp-fire
ha s gone out
Bi d
‘
.
When I thi nk of those good old days , my eye s with
tears do fill ;
When I thi nk of the tin can by the fir e and th e coyote
on the hill
’
I ll tell you, boys , in thos e days old- timers stood a
Show ,
O ur pocket s full of money , not a so rr ow did w e
know
But thi ng s have chan g e d now ; we ar e poorly clothe d
a nd fed
’
n
n
ll
O ur wago s ar e a b r oke and our poni e s most all
d ead
’
Soon we wi ll leave thi s co untry ; you ll hear th e
ang el s s hout ,
Oh , here they come to H e aven , th e camp-fir e ha s
”
gone out
.
.
.
.
.
C H ASE OF THE 0 L C STEER
Sent m e
M is s
from
Og al al a ,
Wy om ing
.
Ano ny m o us
.
Sig ne d
Di d you ever hear of the O L C Ste er ,
Wi th wi dely flar i ng horns ?
He s mashe s the tr ee s a s he s pli t s the b r e e z e ,
’
And the Cowboy s rop e he scor ns
.
’
That 0 L C s fame i t soon becam e
Of camp- fire yar ns the p et ;
“ ’
”
I ll stake my rocks that I g et that ox,
“
’
Ouoth Ra y , Who ll take my b et?
Why , of cour s e my Gr ay Buck hors e
”
Will run on hi m , he s ai d
’
Show me hi s track I ll bri ng him back,
”
’
I ll b et , ali ve or d ead
.
.
.
Up Johnny s poke ! No brag s I mak e ;
Str a i ght g oods I gi v e you now
’
I ll put my stri ng on anything
From a coyot e to a cow
.
—
Then up s poke B ob ! With thi s here j ob
’
You b et I m g oi ng to cop e ;
Ju s t you w a tch me i f you want to s e e
How Texa s punchers rop e ”
.
The se cowboy s thr e e for mode s ty
Have alway s b een well known ;
’
For don t you know, unles s they blow,
’
Their horn s they d not b e blown?
M eanwhi le the ste er , d evo i d of fear ,
’
Was trai li n g o er the M e s a
H e s nifl e d the ai r ; what di d he car e ?
H e knew he was a racer
.
.
Wi th firm i ntent on bu s i ne s s b ent
Three youth ro d e up the trai l
The s teer he s a w an d dropp ed hi s jaw,
An d then he whi s k ed hi s tai l
.
.
Th e other day I chanc ed that way
That s teer w a s gr i nni n g y et
Si x week s have pa s s e d ; not yet the last
’
Of why that s teer they did n t get
.
.
CHOP O
23
If they once b egi n, for hour s they ll chin ,
An d tell , althoug h they hi t hi m
And ran all day , how he g ot away ,
’
’
And why they di d n t git i m
’
.
CHOPO
By N Howard Thorp
.
Wri tte n i n De vil s
Ri ve r, Te xas , 1 901 , a t Je nea w, or Ju no ,
La ke , w h e n i n ca m p w i th F ra nk Wils o n Th is li t tl e ho rs e
I g otfro m Ante l ope G e o rg e a t Sie rra B l a nca, w as bra nde d
Th is
O I rode hi m fro m S i e rra B l a nca to Pa ris , Te xas
s o ng wa s i n m y fi rs t publi ca t i o n, cop y rig h te d i n 1 908
’
.
.
.
.
Through rocky arroyos so dark and s o de ep ;
Down the s i de s of the mountai ns s o s li ppe ry and
s teep ;
’
You ve good judgment , sur e - footed , wherever you
go
You re a safety conveyanc e , my li ttle Chopo
’
.
Whether s i ngle or double , or i n lead of a team ,
Over hi g hways or byw a ys or cro s s i ng a str eam ,
’
You re alw a y s i n fix a nd wi lli ng to g o
’
Whenever you r e call ed on, my Chi co Chopo
.
’
You re a g ood ropi ng horse ; you wer e never j erked
down ;
When t i e d to a s teer , you wi ll ci rcle hi m around ;
’
Let hi m o nce cro s s the s tri ng , a nd over he ll g o
You sab e the bus i ne s s , my cow horse Chopo
.
.
day on the Llano , a hai l s torm b eg an ;
Th e herds were stampeded , the horse s all ran
One
-
24
S ONGS OF TH E C OWB OYS
The li ghtni ng i t g li ttered , a cy clone di d blow ;
But you faced th e sweet mu s i c , my li ttle Chopo
.
Chopo , my pony ; Chopo , my pr i de ;
Chopo , my am i g o ; Chopo I wi ll ri de
’
’
From M e xi co s border cro s s Te x as Llanos ;
To the salt Pe cos Rive r I ri de you , Chopo
.
C HUCK- TIME O N THE RO UND -UP
By Au s ti n
C orcoran G rand Juncti on Col orado
I fi rs t h e ar d i t s u ng a t M o nte Vis ta Col orado by Ja ck
,
,
,
,
It was chuck-ti me on the round- up , and we hear d
“
”
Old D oug hy shout
’
“
You had b etter come a nd g et thi s or I ll thr ow th e
”
whol e thi ng out
.
Sow e hea d e d for the w a g on li k e w i l d s tam p e d e dherd ,
Fear ful every
word
m i nute
le s t the cook mi ght ke ep hi s
.
Th e way we g athered r o un d that me s s - box , s cram
’
bli n for tool s ,
Showed the di s regar d for ethi cs that i s taug ht in
other s chool s ;
But what we lacked i n mann ers we mad e up in
fri end ly s tr i fe ,
’
To s e e who d get thr oug h q ui cke st wi th th e stuff
that prolong s li fe
.
And
Old Doughy stood and watched us with th e
pot hook i n hi s hands
’
That he u s ed for liftin covers fr om th e pots and
’fry i n pans ;
-
CHUCK-TIME O N THE ROUND -UP
25
And also use d to carry out remarks he d sometime s
make
’
To any thoughtles s rider who , i n fear of bein late ,
Would r i de too near the pot- rack and star t a lot of
du s t
’
”
’
That woul d s ettle in hi s kitchen til Cooke s
r ag e woul d bust
’
.
D oughy i s par ticular
that i s all the r e i s to
that ;
But when i t come s to sour- dough bread , we all
take ofl our hat
’
To him , and swear that no ma tte r whe r e you d
a mi nd to look,
’
“
”
v
You d ne er find man to e qual Old D oughy
wi th the hook
For
”
“
.
And when i t come s to fe e di n men
that i s , so
’
they ll stay fed
’
’
n
And spe d the i r ni ghts in slumb e r stead o wres
’
tli n wi th the b ed ,
Your ci ty chef can learn a lot from our old r ound-up
coo k ,
Who never learned a thing he knows from re cipe s
or book ,
’
But just practi ced on us fellows ti l he learnt all
there i s to know
’
’
About thi s cooki n busi nes s and m i xi n sour dough
’
.
Oh ! There s many ways of d i ni n , from what I ve
r e a d an d heard ,
’
“
s
s
From meal that s erved in cour se s to a bottle
”
and a bird
;
’
’
’
26
SO NGS OF THE C OWB OYS
’
But when i t come s to e ati n s tuff that ta s te d good
all the way ,
’
I would n t qui t a me s s box fo r a Broadway caf !
-
.
Fo r when he s li de s th e hooks along th e pot rack,
p i le s on wood ,
’
’
And whi le the fir e i s b urnin down sta rts m i xi n
’
s om e thi n g ood ,
’
’ ’
An you ju s t keep a looki n til your eye s b egin to
ache ,
”
“
And wo nd er what new ki nd of di s h Old D oughy
’
’
s go i n to mak e
He put s i n rai s i ns , sug ar , curr ants , a nd a lot of other
s tuff ,
’
’
’
Ti l all at o nc e you r e ali z e you re goin to have
”
plum d ufi
-
-
.
.
’
Now I recko n i n the ci ti e s they d spell that word in
French ,
’
’
Til you woul d n t know j ust what they meant
a lati g o or ci nch
’
And you d b e none th e wi s er when they s et it by
yo ur plate ,
Nor , after i t w a s eaten could you swear to what
you ate?
’
’
In fact you would n t know ti l m orni n that you
had really di ne d
’
’
And t a ke n i n a l otof s tuff your i n ard s coul dn t g r i nd
“
But you g e t the fir s t rem i nd e r al ong ab out la s t
”
g u a rd ,
’
”
“
When tha t Frenchy stuff s tart s quarre li n down
”
“
in your fr ont yar d ,
’
.
'
28
S O NGS OF THE C OWB OY S
S o you hav e to take your chance s on what
”
“
Frenchy mi nds to s erve ,
And try to catch th e b edpo s t as i t comes around the
cur ve ;
Then comme nc e an awful tussle when you try to
ri d e the bunk,
”
“
While the wi r ele s s ke ep s you posted on the
’
”
“
doi n down in front
.
Fo r you keep a hearin rumor s of an international
ri ot ,
’
Caused by th e co st of higher livin on thi s p ur ely
forei gn di et ,
’
Ti l you ar e forced to take some i s sue in the tr ouble
near at hand ,
And try to organ
i ze yo ur for ces to make a final
stan d
Ag ain s t thi s food comb i ne that has got you i n i ts grip
’
’
Til you thi nk you r e in the state r oom of an o ce a n
’
go i n shi p
’
-
,
.
That s eems to take you further fr om th e s cene s y ou
recogni z e ,
’
And you g e t to w ond eri n how it fe el s when a fellow
really di e s
’
’
Sti ll you keep on h e ar in e cho e s of la s t ni ght s food
a nd song ,
’
’
“
’
Til you r eali z e i t s m orni n and th e LFrenchy
’
”
Revoluti on s on
’
O f cour s e you may r ecover , and p erhaps you r e
none the worse ,
’
’
”
“
e a ti n
But for me there s no
swell
whil e
”
“
Fr enchy drive s the he ar se
.
.
.
CHUCK-TIME O N THE RO UND -UP
29
Oh ! You who di ne in ci ti e s , pas s i ng thr oug h plate
glas s doors ,
Windi ng i n ar ound swell table s s et on poli s hed
marble floors ,
’
F ol l ow i n a darky who wi ll show you to your s eat ,
While one wi ll take your hat and another bru s h
your feet
’
Dinin wi th fai r ladie s while sweet mu s ic fills the
room ,
”
’
“
And you g l a dly ti p th e leader fo r the lady s
favo rite tune ;
You who li nger long and li sten to the thi ngs you lik e
to hear
In the swel l caf ! s in ci ti e s that to you ar e always
dear ,
“
”
i
May th nk that I am par tial to the cowboy and
“
”
hi s g rub ,
’
B ut I ve dine d at all tho s e caf ! s and was fed o nc e
at a club ,
’
And I ve come to thi s conclu s i on , and r i ght here
I want to say ,
’
“
”
n
Whe you eat at C af ! Doughy s you feel all
r i g ht next day ,
’
“
”
For here i s Doughy s r ecord , and b e at i t if you
can
’
He s cooked fo r us for twenty y e ar s and never lost
a m an.
SO NG S OF TH E C O WB OYS
30
A C OW -CAMP O N THE RANGE
Au th ors hi p
c re d i te d
h e ard i t s u ng
M ex i co
by
to Tom
Wal ker
M e w , Okl ahom a
H y de ,
.
Th ree Ri ve rs ,
Fi rs t
Ne w
.
Oh , the pra i ri e do g s ar e barking ,
And the b i rd s are on the wi ng ,
S e e the heel fly chase th e hei fers , boys !
’
T i s a firs t cl a s s Si gn of s pri ng
The e l m w ood i s buddi ng ,
The earth i s turni ng g reen ;
S e e the pretty thing s of natur e ,
That make li fe a plea s ant dream !
-
.
I m ju s t li vi ng thr ough th e wi nter
To enjoy the comi ng change ,
For there i s no plac e so homeli ke
As a cow- camp on the range
’
The bo s s i s smi li ng s um ti ous ,
Radi ant a s the setti ng sun ;
’
But we know he ai n t contented ,
’
’
—
Fo r he ain t a cus s i n none
’
.
.
The cook i s at th e chuck-box
“
Whi s tli ng Hei fer s in the Green ,
Maki ng baki ng —
powder biscui ts , boys ,
Wh i le the pot i s b i li ng b eans
The boys unti e the i r b eddi ng
And unrol l i t on the run ,
For they ar e i n a mon s tr ous hurry ,
’
For the supp er s almo s t done
.
.
Chuck i s re a d y
come e n g et it !
’
Cri ed th e cook s familiar voi ce
“
”
THE C OWB OY AT CHURCH
31
As he cl imb ed th e wagon wh eel
To watch the cowboy s all r ej o i ce
Then all thoug ht s were turne d wi th reverence
To a plate of b eef and b ean s ,
As we g r a z ed on b eef and b i s cui ts
Li ke y ear-ti ng s on the range
.
.
To th e hot pl a ce wi th your ci ty ,
Wh ere they herd li ke fri ghtened rats
O n a range s o badly crowd ed
’
There a i n t room to cus s a cat
’
Thi s li fe i s not s o s um ti ous ,
’
I m not long i ng for a ch ang e ,
But there i s no plac e so homeli ke
As a cow- camp on th e rang e
.
.
THE COWB O Y AT CHURCH
Au thor
unkno w n to m e bu t m y ha t ofi to hi m w h oe ve r
he m a y be H e ard i t re ci te d by a y ou ng hig h s chool g i rl
a t M o ntros e Col or ad o
Some ti m e ago
two weeks or mor e
'
,
,
-
.
,
.
If I rememb er well
I foun d my s elf i n town , and thought
’
I d knock aro und a spell ;
When all at once I hear d the b ell
’
’
I di d n t know t w a s Sunday ,
For on the plai ns we s c a rc ely know
A Sun day from a Mo nday
A—
calli ng all the people
From the hi ghw a y s and the hedges ,
And a ll th e reckl e s s throng
’
T hat tr ead r ui n s ragg ed edges ,
32
S O NGS OF THE C OWB OYS
To come and hear the pasto r tell
’
Salvati on s touchi ng s tory ,
And how the new road mi s ses hell
And leads you str ai ght to g lory
.
I s tarted by the chapel door ,
But somethi ng ur g ed me i n,
’
And tol d me not to spend God s day
In r evelry a nd s i n
’
I don t g o much on sentiment ,
But tear s cam e to my ey e s
’
It se emed ju s t li ke my mother s vo i c e
Wa s speaki ng f rom the s ki es
.
.
.
I thoug ht how often she had gon e
Wi th li ttle Si s and me
To chur ch when I was but a lad ,
’
Way back i n Tenne s s e e
It never o nc e occurred to me
About not b ei ng dre s s ed
In Sunday ri g ; but car ele s sly
I went i n with the r e st
.
.
You should have seen the smile s and shrug s
As I we nt walki ng i n,
As thoug h they thoug ht my leggins
Wor s e than any ki nd of s i n ;
Al though the ho ne s t par s on ,
In hi s ve s tr y g arb arrayed ,
Wa s dre s s e d th e sam e as I was
In th e tr appi ngs of hi s tr ade
.
The good man prayed for all the world
And all i ts motley c re w ,
THE C OWB O Y AT CHURCH
Fo r pagan , Hi ndoo , s i nners , Tur k,
And unb eli evi ng Jews ,
Though the congre g at i on doubtle s s thoug ht
That the cowboy as a rac e
Were a ki nd of moral outlaw
Wi th no good claim to gr ac e
.
Is it very s tr an g e that cowboys ar e
A rough and r e ckle s s crew ,
When thei r garb forb i d s thei r do i ng right
As Chri s ti an p eople do ?
That they fr eque nt s cene s of r evelry
Where death i s boug ht and sold ,
Where at lea s t they g e t a welcome ,
’
Though i t s prompted by thei r gold ?
S tr ang er , di d it ever s tr i ke you ,
When the wi nter days are g o ne ,
And the mo rtal g ra s s i s s pr i nging up
To meet the judgment s un,
’
And we tend mi g hty round- up s
Where , accordi ng to th e Word ,
The ang el cowboy of the Lord
Will cut the human herd
That a heap of s tock, that s lowi ng now
’
Ar ound the Ma s ter s p e n
An d fee di ng at hi s fodder stack,
Wi ll hav e the brand pi cke d then?
A br and that when th e hair was long
Looked li ke the lett er C ,
’
i
W ll prove to b e th e d ev i l s
And the brand the letter D ;
’
S O NGS OF THE C OWB OYS
34
While many a long- horned p uncher
I mean ju s t so to s peak
’
That ha s n t had the a d vantag e
O f th e rang e and g o s pel creek
Will g e t to cr op the gra s s e s
In the p a s tur e of th e Lord
If the letter C Showed up
’
B eneath the d evi l s checker- boar d?
THE C OWB OY AT WORK
h s o ng s u ng a t a cow cam p
E ddy Cou nt y N e w M e x i co
t is
-
,
in Roc ky Arroy o,
.
You may call th e cowboy ho rn ed and thi nk hi m
har d to tame ,
You may heap vi l e ep i thets upo n hi s head ;
But to know hi m i s to li ke him , notwi th s tan ding hi s
har d name ,
For h e wi ll divi de wi th you hi s b e ef and bread
.
If you s e e hi m on hi s pony as he
s
camp er s o er th e
’
plai n,
You woul d thi nk him wi ld and woolly to b e sur e ;
But hi s heart i s warm and tend er when h e s e es a
fri end in need ,
Though hi s educati on i s but to e ndur e
.
When the s torm breaks in its fury and lightning s
vi vi d fla s h
M ake s you thank the Lord for s helter and for b ed ,
Then i t i s he mount s hi s po ny an d away you se e hi m
da s h,
No p r otecti on but the hat upon hi s head
’
.
36
S O NGS OF THE C OWB OYS
Wh ere the po s s um and the badger and the rattle
s nake s a b ound
And the mo ns trou s star s are w i nkin o e r a wilder
’
,
’
’
ne s s profound ;
Where lone s ome , tawny prai ri e s melt into airy
stream s ,
While the D ouble Mountai ns slumb e r in heavenly
ki nd s of dr eam s ;
’
Wher e th e antelop e i s graz i n and the lonely plover s
call ,
’
It w a s ther e I attended the Cowboys Chri stmas
B all
.
C i ty ,
’
The town was Anson
old Jo nes county s eat ,
Where they rai s e d Polled An g us cattle and wavi ng
whi s kered whe a t ;
Where the ai r i s soft and b am m y and d ry and ful l
of health ,
’
Where the prai ri e s i s explodiu wi th agricul tur al
wealth ;
Wher e they pri nt the Texa s Western , that Hall
M cCann s uppli e s
’
n
i
s
W th ews and yarn and sto rie s , of most ama z ia
Si z e ;
Wh ere Frank Smi th pull s the badger ” on knowi n’
tenderfeet ,
’
And D emocracy s triumphant and mi g hty har d t o
b eat ;
Where li v e s that g ood old hunte r , John M i l s ap ,
from Lamar ,
“
s
Who u ed to b e th e s herifl back ea s t in Pari s ,
”
sah
.
THE C OWB O Y S CHRISTMAS BALL
’
37
was there , I say , at Anson with the lovely Widde r
Wall ,
’
That I went to that re c eption, th e Cowboys C hr i st
mas Ball
’
T
.
The boys had left the r anche s and come to town in
p i le s ;
’
The ladi e s , ki nder s ca tteri n , had gathered in fo r
mi les
And yet the place was crowded , as I remembe r
well ,
’
T was g ave on thi s oc cas i on at the Morni ng Star
Hotel
The mus i c w a s a fiddle and a lively tambour i ne ,
And vi ol came i mported , by the st a ge from Ab i lene
The r oom was togged out gorgeou s
wi th mi s tle
toe and shawls ,
And the candle s fli cker ed fe s ti ous , ar ound the airy
walls
The wi mmen folks looked lovely
the boys looke d
ki nder tr e ed ,
’
Ti ll the leader commenced y ell i n , “ Whoa , fellers ,
’
”
let s s tamp ede ,
’
’
And the mus i c star ted s i ghin and a wa i li n thr ough
the hall
’
n
As a ki d of i ntr oduction to the Cowboys Christ
mas Ball
.
.
’
.
.
.
The leade r was a feller that came from Thomp s on’ s
ranch ,
’
hi
They calle d m Windy Billy fr om Little D eadman s
B r anch
.
38
SONGS O F THE C OWB OYS
His rig w a s ki nder k e erl es s , b i g spurs and hi gh
heele d b oots ;
H e had the reputati on that come s when fellers
sh oot s
H i s voi ce w a s li ke a bu g le upo n the mountai n
hei g ht ;
’
Hi s fe et were ani mate d and a mi g hty movin s i ght,
When he commenced to holler ,
Now, fellers
stake your p e n
Lock hor ns ter all them hei fers an d r ustl e them li ke
.
.
m
en ;
Sal oot yer lovely cr i tt ers ; now
wi ng and let em g o;
’
Climb the g r a pevi ne round em ; now all hands do
ce- d o
You maveri ck, Ji n e the roun d-up , j e s s ski p th e
”
waterfall ,
’
’
w
a
s
i
Huh, hit
g ett n active , the C owboy s Christ
m a s Bal l
s
’
.
.
The boys w a s tol abl e s ki tti s h , th e ladi e s powe rful
neat ;
’
That old bra s s vi ol s mu s i c ju s t got there wi th b oth
fe et ;
’
That wai li n , fr i s ky fid d le , I never s hall for g et ;
’
And Wi ndy kept a Si ng i n —I thi nk I hear hi m
yet
’
Oh , ye s , cha s e ye r s quirr el s an cut em to our s i de ;
Spur Tre ad well to th e c enter , wi th Cro s s P Char
’
ley s b r i de ;
’
D oc Holli s down the ce nter , and twine the ladi es
chai n ;
’
V an An dr ews , p en th e fillie s in bi g T D i amond s
tr ain
’
-
.
’
TH E
C OWB OYS CHRISTMAS BALL
39
All pull your fre i ght tog ether , now swallow fork and
chang e ;
Bi g Bo s to n, lead the tr ai l he r d thr ou gh li ttl e Pi tch
’
fork s rang e
Purr round yer ge ntle pussie s , now r op e and bal
”
anc e all
’
’
—
Huh , hi t were g ettin active the Cowboys Christ
mas B al l
.
.
The dust ri z fast and furious ; we all j e s gallope d
round ,
Ti ll the sce nery g ot s o gi ddy that T Bar D i ck wa s
downe d
’
We buckled to our par dn ers and told em to hold
’
.
on,
Then shook our hoofs like li g htni n until the ear ly
’
Don t tell me bout coti lli ons , o r germans
’
’
s i r- e e !
That whi rl at An s on C i ty j e s takes the cake with
me
’
’
’
I m s i ck of laz y s huffli n s , of them I ve had my
’
.
fill ;
G i ve me a fro nti er bre a k- down backed up by Wi ndy
B i ll
’
M cAl l i s te r ai n t nowher e , when W i ndy lead s th e
s how ;
’
’
I ve s een em both i n harnes s , and s o I ought te r
know
’
Oh , B i ll , I shan t forg et yer, and I ofte nti me s
recall
’
That li vely g a i ted s w orra y
the C owboys Ch ri st
mas Ball
.
.
.
40
S O NGS OF TH E C OWB OYS
’
THE C OWB O Y S D REAM
G i ve n m e by Wai t Rob er ts , Doubl e Di a m o nd Ra nch ,
Wh i te M ou nta i ns , 1 898 Au thors h ip as cri be d to fa ther
of Cap ta i n Rob er ts , of the Te xas Ra ng e rs
.
.
Last ni g ht , a s I lay on the prairi e ,
And looked at the star s i n the s ky ,
I wo ndered if eve r a cow boy
Would dr i ft to that sweet by and by
.
I hear there s to b e a gr and round- up
Where cowboy s wi th others mu s t s tand ,
To b e cut out by the ri ders of judgment
Who ar e po s te d a nd know all the brands
’
.
The tr ail to that gr eat mysti c regi on
Is narrow and di m , so they say ;
While the one that leads down to p e r dition
Is posted and bla z ed all the way
.
Whose fault i s it , then , that s o many
Go astr ay , on thi s wi ld r ang e fai l ,
Who mi ght have b e en rich and had pl enty
Had they known of the dim , narrow tr ai l?
I wond er if at the last day some cowboy
Unbrand ed a nd unclai med should stand ,
Would he b e maveri cked by thos e ri d ers of judgm ent
Who ar e po s te d and know all th e b r ands ?
I wonde r if ever a cowb oy
Stood r eady for that Judg ment Day ,
And could say to the Bos s of the Ri ders ,
”
“ ’
I m r eady , come , dr ive m e away ?
TH E
C OWB OY S LAMENT
’
41
For they , li ke the cows that ar e lo co ed ,
Stampe d e at the s i g ht of a hand y
Ar e dr a gged wi th a rop e to the round up ,‘
’
Or g e t m arked wi th some crooked man s b r and
-
.
And I m scar ed that I ll b e a str ay y ear ling ,
A maveri ck, unbranded on hi gh ,
“
”
And get cut i n the bunch wi th the rusti e s
When the Bo s s of the Riders goes by
’
’
.
For they tell Of another bi g owne r
’
’
Who s ne er over s tock e d , s o they say ,
But who al way s make s room for the s i nne r
Who drifts fr om the str ai g ht , narrow way
.
They say he will never forg et you ,
That he knows eve ry acti on and look ;
’
So fo r safety you d b etter g e t bran d ed ,
Have your nam e in the gr eat Tally B ook
.
My wi sh for all cowboys i s thi s
That we may me et at that grand final sale ;
B e cut out by the ri der s Of jud g ment
And shoved up the dim , narr ow tr ail
.
’
THE C OWB OY S LAMENT
Au thors h ip
credi te d to Tro y
bras ka I firs t h e ard i t s u ng
N e bras ka abou t 1 886
.
,
H al e , B a ttl e
i n a bar -roo m
Cree k
at
,
Ne
Wis ner
,
.
As I walke d out i n the s tr eets of Laredo ,
As I walked out i n Lar e d o one day ,
I sp i ed a poor cowboy Wr appe d up i n whi te lin en ,
Wr apped up in white linen as cold as the clay
.
42
SONG S OF THE C OWB OYS
Oh , b eat the drum s lowly and play the fife lowly ,
Pl a y the D ead Mar ch a s you b ear me alo ng ;
Take me to the g rav eyar d , and lay the so d ov er me ,
’
’
Fo r I m a young cowboy , and I know I ve d o ne
wr ong
.
I s e e by your outfit that you ar e a cowboy ,
The s e words he di d s a y a s I boldly steppe d by
“
Come , s i t b e s i d e me and hear my sa d sto ry ;
I was shot i n the breast and I know I mu s t di e
.
“
Let s i xteen gambler s come handle my coffin ,
Let s i xteen cowboy s come s i ng me a s o ng ,
Take me to the graveyar d an d lay the s od over me ,
’
’
For I m a poor cowboy , and I lm ow I v e done wrong
.
My fri ends and relati o ns they li ve i n the Nati on,
They know not wher e thei r boy ha s g one
H e fir s t cam e to Texa s and hi re d to a ranchman ,
’
’
Oh , I m a young cowboy , and I know I ve done
wr ong
.
.
—
wr i te a letter to my gray hai red mothe r,
And carry the s a m e to my s i s ter s o dear ;
But not a word s hall you me nti on
When a crowd gathers round you my story to
hear
GO
.
There i s another mor e d ear than a si s ter ,
’
She ll b i tterly we ep when she he ar s I a m g one
There i s another who wi ll wi n her aff ect i o ns ,
’
’
For I m a youn g cowboy , and they say I ve done
wr ong
.
.
44
SONGS OF THE C OWB OYS
We b eat the d rum slowly and played the fife lowly,
And b i tt erly wept a s we bore hi m along ;
Fo r we all lov ed our comrade , s o brave , young , and
h and s ome ;
’
W e all lov ed our comrad e , although h e d done
wr ong
.
THE C O WB O Y S LIFE
’
H e ard th is s ung
N e w M e x i co , by
a
t
a
li ttl e
round up
at
-
a puncher nam e d Spe nce
Se ve n La kes ,
.
The bawl Of a s teer
’
To a cowboy s ear
Is mus i c Of sweete s t s tr ain ;
An d the yelp i ng note s
Of the gr a y coyote s
To him ar e a glad refrai n
.
And hi s joll y songs
Spee d hi m along
As he thi nk s of th e littl e g al
Wi th g olde n hai r
Who i s wai ti ng there
At the bar s of the home co rr al
.
Fo r a kin gly crown
In the no i s y town
’
H i s saddle he woul d n t chang e ;
N 0 li fe so fre e
As the li fe we s e e
’
Way out on the Yaso r ang e
.
eye s are b ri ght
And hi s heart as li ght
His
THE C OWB OY S LIFE
’
4S
As th e smoke of hi s cigar ette ;
’
There s nev er a car e
For hi s s oul to b e a r ,
N O trouble to make hi m fret
.
The rapi d b eat
’
Of hi s bro nco s fe et ,
O n the sod a s he spe eds along,
Keep s li vi ng ti m e
To the r i ngi ng rhym e
’
Of hi s r o lli cki ng cowboy s song
.
Hike i t, cowboys ,
For the r ange away
O n the back Of a bronc of steel ,
Wi th a car ele s s fli rt
O f the raw-hi de qui r t
And the di g of a roweled heel
.
The wi nd s may blow
And the thun d er growl
Or the bre ez e may safely moa n ;
’
A cowboy s li fe
Is a royal li fe ,
H i s sad d le hi s ki n g ly thr one
.
Saddle up , boy s ,
For the work i s play
’
’
Whe n love s i n the cowboy s eyes ,
When hi s heart i s li g ht
As the cloud s of whi te
That swim i n the s ummer ski e s
.
SONGS OF THE COWBOY S
46
’
THE C OWB OY S MEDITATIO N
I
reg re t tha t
I
do
o
au thor s na m e H a ve
ha ve fa i l e d H e a rd th is
a n old pu nch e r na m e d
not kn w the
t rie d to l oca te hi m
s u ng i n Bl ufi C i ty
Ca rte r
,
r
,
but s o far
Ut , by
ah
’
.
.
.
At mi dni g ht , whe n the cattl e ar e sleeping ,
On my saddle I p i llow my head ,
And up at the heavens li e peep i ng
From out of my cold gra s s y bed ;
Often a nd Ofte n I wondered ,
At ni ght when lyi ng alone ,
If every br i g ht s tar up yonde r
Is a b i g p eople d world like our own
.
Ar e they world s wi th the i r rang e s and ranches ?
DO they ri ng wi th roug h ri d e r refrains ?
DO the cowboys scrap th ere wi th Comanche s
And other Red M en of the plai n s ?
Ar e the hill s covered ove r wi th cattl e
In thos e mysti c world s far , far away?
DO the ranch- house s ring w i th the p r attl e
Of swe et li ttle children at play ?
-
At ni ght , i n the bright star s up yond er ,
D o th e cowb oy s li e down to thei r re s t?
D o they gaz e at thi s Ol d world a nd wond er
If rough r i d er s dash over i ts breast?
DO they li st to the wolve s i n the canyo ns ?
DO they watch the ni g ht owl i n i ts fli g ht ,
Wi th thei r hor s es the i r onl y compani ons
While guar ding th e herd thr oug h th e ni ght?
Someti m es , when a bright star i s twinkling
Like a diamond s et i n the sky ,
A COWBOY S PRAYER
’
47
I find mysel f lying and thi nking ,
’
It may b e Go d s heaven i s ni g h
I wonder i f ther e I s hall me et he r,
My mother whom G od took away ;
’
If i n the s tar he a ve ns I ll g r e et her
’
At the round up that s on the Last Day
.
-
.
In the e a s t the gr eat daylight i s b r eaking ,
And i nto my saddl e I sp ri ng ;
The cattl e fr om s le ep ar e awaki ng ,
The heaven-thoug hts from me take wing ;
The eye s of my bronco ar e fla s hi ng ,
Impati e nt he pull s at th e r ei n s ,
And off ro un d the herd I g o da s hing ,
A r eckles s cowboy of the plains
.
’
A C OWB OY S PRAYER
G i ve n m e by Ph il Le N oi r, Se c re tar y of the Las Veg as
Rou nd Up Af t er w ards fou nd i t i n Charl es B adg e r
“
’
”
l
r
k
r
k
C a , J s , boo , Sun a nd Saddl e Le a th er
.
.
.
Lord , I ai n t never li ved wh e r e chur che s gr ow
I li ke creati on b etter a s i t s tood
That day You fini s hed i t so lo ng ago
And looke d upon Yo ur work and call ed it good
I know that others fin d You i n th e li g ht
’
That s si fte d d own thr ough ti nted wi nd ow- panes ,
And y et I s eem to feel You near to- ni g ht
In thi s di m , qui et star li ght on th e plai ns
’
0
.
’
.
I thank You , Lord , that I am placed so wel l ,
That You have m ad e my fre edom so complete ;
’
That I m no s lave of whi s tl e , clock, or b ell ,
No r weak- ey ed pri soner of wall and str eet
.
48
SONG S OF THE C OWBOYS
’
Just let me li ve my li fe a s I ve be g un
’
An d gi ve me work th a t s open to the sky ;
Make me a pardner Of the wi nd a nd s un
’
’
An d I won t a s k a li fe that s soft or hi g h
.
’
Let me b e ea s y on the man that s down ;
Let me b e squar e and generou s wi th a ll
’
’
I m car ele s s , someti mes , Lord , whe n I m in town ,
’
But never let em say I m mean or small !
M ake me as b i g and Op en as the plai ns ,
As hone s t as the hors e b etween my knees ,
Clean a s the wi nd that blows b ehi n d the rains ,
Fre e as the hawk that cir cles down the b r ee z e
.
’
.
Forgive me , Lord , if someti me s I forget
You know about the re a s ons that ar e hi d
You under s tand the thing s that gall and fr et ;
Why, You know me b etter than my moth er di d !
’
Just keep an eye on all that s done and said ,
Ju s t ri ght me sometim e s when I turn a s i de ,
And lead me on that lo ng dim tr ai l ah ead
That stre tches upward towar d the Great Divid e
.
.
.
A C OWB O Y S P RIZE
’
“
”
l
i
s
e
d
i
n
De nve r Pos t
Pub h
I fi rs t h e ard i t
Al Ro ber ts i n Whi te O a ks , N e w M e x i co
.
.
N eve r w a s no g al li ke Molli e
’
In creati on, I d on t thi nk !
’
Hotter n a hot tamal e ;
’
’
’
s
n
i
H an ome a t the word to fit er
’
She s a b eauty head to heel
’’i
L g htni n b ui lt gi t up ah gi tter ,
’
An a s true as poli shed steel
.
s
u ng
COWBOYS VICTI MIZED
49
’
Case 0 love at fir s t Si ght , reckon
O n my part , you under s tan d
’
’
’
An I s wore She d s oo n b e p a cki n
’
’
Thi s s ame 01 cow p uncher s b r a nd
’
’
We nt i nto the game an won er,
From all ri val s yanked the pri z e ;
’
’
’
Cut e r from th e bunch an run e r
O fl b efore thei r j e al ous eye s
.
.
There ai n t a prouder
Ri der on the ran g e s , s e e?
’
Mo rta l could n t yawp no loude r
’
Cra cki n up her worth than m e
From the crupp er to the s naffle
’
She s a thorre rb re d , that mar e ,
’
That I won at John s on s rafil e
At the T r anch on the B ear
’
N ow sh e s mi n e
’
.
.
.
C OWB OYS VI CTIMIZED
Jame s B arton Adam s
I fi rs t h e ar d th is s o ng i n El Pas o Te xas a t a S toc k As s o
cia ti on m ee ti ng s u ng b e tw e e n s upp er a nd b re a kfas t b y
a m a n wi th a g ood voi ce a nd l ong af te rw ards l e arned the
au thor s na m e
By
,
,
,
,
’
.
We had all made the gue s s by the cut of hi s dr e s s
’
a n the te nderfoot style that he s lung ,
’
An th e way that he s pun to ney langua g e that run
’
s li ck a s gr ea s e from the p i nt Of hi s tong u e ,
That he w a s a red hotter from over the water , a juke
or a marki s , or wu s s ,
’
T han that in hi s rank , an we thou ght we co uld bank
’
on ha vi n some fun with the cus s
-
.
SONG S OF
50
THE
C OWB OYS
He talked wi th a dr awl ti ll hi s words se eme d to fal l
reluct a nt oute n hi s mouth ,
’
An the b abyi s h s tar e i n hi s eye s you woul d swear
s howe d a brai n that w a s s tunte d by dr outh ;
’
An the boy s 0 the r a nge all re g a r d ed th e s tr ang e
’
sort 0 cus s that had come there to bo a rd
’
’
For hi s health as a s nob a n we put up a j ob that d
’
lower the pr i de 0 my lord
’
.
H e remar ked that he co ul d ride anything that wore
’
’
hi de ; he had ri d wi th the Ounds , don t y e
know ;
’
’
An we told hi m we thought we d b e able to tr ot out
’
’
a hos s that wa n t fa s hi oned for Show
’
’
One 0 kitteni sh vi ew s that d s erv e to amu s e of hi s
hi ghne s s i f he w a s i ncli ned
’
’
Fur to try i t a whir l , an he s mil e d li k e a gir l , an
’
would ri de i t if we di d n t mi n d
’
An he we nt farther wi th an Ofl e r t o b et all the
boo d le that we could p erduce ,
’
’
That he d r i de anythi ng we d a noti on to b ring till
he toned i t down tam e a s a g oo s e
’
An i n manner qui te ra s h our av ai lable cash was
fl a s hed fur to b ack up our vi ews
’
That we d find hi m a chunk of qui ck acti o n bro nc
’
that d buck him plumb outen his sho e s !
.
.
-
We d a mar e i n the herd that w a s reckoned a b i r d,
’
’—
~
s
j e t a bundl e o gi t up a n gi t ;
Half d evi l , half ho s s , whi ch th e sam e is a cr oss
’
’
’
that s producti ve O meanne s s an grit ;
She had dow ned every ri der that dared g e t astride
he r and c ri ppled a d o z e n o r s o
’
SONG S OF THE COWB OYS
52
s ore when we learned that the s che m in
young houn d
Bronco B i ll S nyder , the champi on r i der ,
’
whi ch he found
a hunt i n a s nap
’
Wa s
-
.
’
THE C OWMAN S PRAYER
Do n t kno w the
au tho nam e
cam p ne ar For t Sum ner on
M ex i co
’
’
rs
,
.
H e ard i t s u ng i n a cow
the Pe cos Ri ve r , N e w
.
Now, 0 Lord , plea s e lend m e thi ne ear ,
The prayer of a cattleman to hear ;
No doub t th e prayer s m a y s e em str ang e ,
But I want you to ble s s our cattle r ange
.
Ble s s the round up s year by year ,
’
And do n t for g et the growi ng s teer ;
Water the land s wi th brooks and r i lls
Fo r my cattle that roam on a thousand hills
-
P r airi e fir e s , wo n t you pleas e stop?
Let thunder r oll , water dr op
It fri ghte ns me to s ee th e smoke ;
’
’
Unl es s i t s stopped , I ll go dead b r oke
’
.
.
As you , O Lord , my herd b ehold ,
It repre s ent s a sack of g ol d ;
I thi nk at le a s t five ce nt s a pound
Wi ll b e the pri ce of b eef the year round
One thi ng more and the n I ’ m thr ough ,
Ins tead Of one calf , gi v e my cows two
I may pray di fl e re nt from other m e n, I
’
But I ve had my s a y , and now, Amen
.
.
.
.
THE CROOKED TRAIL TO HOLBROOK 53
THE CRO OKED TRAIL TO H O LBRO OK
M ail ed m e from Doug l as , Ariz ona , by
na m e
d Co tton
a n ol d
friend
.
Come , a ll you jolly cowb oys that follow the bronco
steer ,
’
I ll si ng to you a vers e o r two your spi rit s for to
cheer ;
’
It s all about a tr ip that I di d undergo
On that cr ooked tr ai l to Holbrook, i n Ari z ona , Oh
.
It was on th e s eve nteenth of Feb rua ry our herd
i t starte d out ,
It would have ma d e your heart s jump to hear them
bawl and shout ,
As wild as any b ufia l o that eve r s wam the Platte ,
Thos e cattle w e were drivi ng and every one was
fat
.
We cr o s s ed the M escal Mountai ns on the way to
Hi dalg o ,
And when we g ot to Gilson Flat s , Lord , how the
wi nd di d blow !
B u t our Spi r i ts never faile d us as onwar d we di d g o,
On that crooked tr ai l to Holbrook, i n Ari z ona , Oh
.
That ni ght we had a stamp ede ; Lord , how the cattle
run !
We mad e i t to our hor s e s ; I tell you , w e had fun ;
Over the pr i ckly pe ar a nd catclaw b r u s h we qui ckly
made our way ;
’
We thoug ht of our long j our ney and th e gir ls we d
left one day
.
SONGS OF THE C OWB OY S
54
long by Som b s erv a we s lowly punched alo ng ,
While each and eve ry punche r woul d s i ng a hearty
s o ng
To cheer up hi s comrade a s o nward we di d go ,
O n that crooked tr ai l to Holbroo k, in Ar i z ona, Oh
It
’
s
'
.
We cro s s ed th e Mogoll o n M o untai ns where the tall
p i ne s grow ,
Gras s i n abundanc e and ri ppli ng stream s do flow ;
O ur packs were always tur ni ng , of cour s e our gai t
w a s slow ,
On that cr ooked tr ail of Holbrook , in Ar izona , oh
.
At last we g ot to Holbrook
a little g ale di d blow ;
’
It blew up sand an d pe b ble stone s , an d i t di d n t
blow them s low
We had to dri nk the water from that mud dy little
s tr eam ,
And swallowed a p e ek of dir t when we tr i e d to eat
a b ean
.
.
But th e ca ttle now ar e shipped and homewar d w e
ar e bound
Wi th a lot of as ti r ed horses as ever could be
found,
Acro s s the re s ervati on no dan g er di d we fear ,
But thoug ht of wi ve s and sweeth earts and the o nes
w e love so d ear
.
CROSSING TH E D IVID E
55
CROS SIN G THE D IVI D E
J W Foley
One of the b es t of the l ot H e ar d th is a t a rou nd up i n the
M og ol l on M ou nt a i ns s u ng by a pu nch er na m e d Fre ckl es
By
.
.
-
.
.
,
’
Par s on , I m a maverick, just
loos e an
’
runni n
’
’
g ra z i n
,
where s th gr eenest gr as s an dri nki n where
I choose ;
’
’
Had to rus tle i n my youth an never had no rai si n ;
’
’
’
Was n t never h alter broke an I a i n t much to lose ;
’
’
’
Used to s l e e p i n i n a bag an li vi n i n a s li cker ;
’
Church folks never branded me
I don t know as
they tr i ed ;
’
’
Wi s h you d say a praye r fo r me an tr y to make a
c
l i cke r
’
Fo r the b e s t they ll g i ve me when I c r os s the Bi g
D i vi d e
’
’
’
E ati n
’
’
.
Tell em I ai n t co rr alled a ni g ht i n more n twe nty ;
’
’
’
’
’
Tell em I m rawb oned an roug h an ai n t much for
look s ;
’
’
’
Tell em I d on t need much gr i ef b ecause I ve had
a ple nty ;
’
’
’
I don t know how bad I am cau s e I ai n t kept no
books
’
’
’
—
Tell e m I m a m averi ck a runni n loo s e unbr a nded ;
’
’
’
’
Tell em I s hoot s tr ai ght an qui ck an ai n t g ot much
to hi de ;
’
’
Have em come an s i z e me up as soon a s I get
la nded ,
’
For the b e s t they ll giv e me when I c r os s th e G r eat
Divide
’
’
-
.
.
’
56
SONGS OF TH E COWBOYS
Tell em I rOde s tr ai ght an square an neve r grabb ed
for leather ;
N eve r r ope d a cri ppled steer or r ode a sore- backed
hor s e ;
’
’
’
’
Tell em I ve bucke d wi nd an rai n an eve ry sort
Of weather ,
’
Ha d my ti lts with A K Hall an Captai n R E
M or s e
’
’
’
D on t hi d e nothi n fr om e m , whether it b e sweet
or b i tter ,
’
’
’
’
Tell em I ll stay on th range , but if I m shut
out s i de
’
’
I ll ab i de i t like a man b ecaus e I ain t no
qu i tter ;
’
’
I ai n t goi ng to cha nge j ust when I cr o s s th Bi g
D i vi de
’
’
.
.
’
.
.
.
.
’
Tell em , whe n th Roundup come s for all us human
cri tter s ,
’
Just corral me with my kind an run a b r and on
me ;
’
’
I don t want to b e co rr all ed with hypocrites an
qui tters ;
’
’
Brand me j ust fo r what I am
an I m j ust wha t
yo u s e e
’
I don t want no steam- het stall or bran- mash for
my rati on ;
’
’
I j us t want to meet th bos s an fac e hi m hone s t
ey ed ,
’
’
Show hi m j us t what chi p s I got an shove em in for
’
ca s hi n ;
’
’
That s what you can tell em when I cr os s the B i g
D i vi de
’
.
.
DAN TAYLOR
57
DAN TAYLO R
cred i te d to Le n Dor an M i neral Wells
Te xas I firs t h e ard i t s u ng b y Tom Wil l i a m s o n w h i l e
carry i ng a bunch of hors es from M onu m e nt Spri ng s o ver
to M id l a nd Te xas
Au thors hi p
,
,
,
.
,
.
D an Taylor is a rolli cki ng cuss ,
A frisky s on of a g un ;
H e love s to cour t the m ai dens ,
’
And he savvi e s how i t s do ne
.
He us ed to b e a cowboy,
’
And they s a y he w a s n t s low ;
H e coul d ri d e the bucki n g bronco
And s wi ng the lo ng las s o
.
H e coul d catch a maveri ck by the head
O r heel hi m on the fly ;
He could p i ck up hi s fro nt one s
Wh eneve r he chos e to try
.
H e u s ed to ri d e mo s t anythi ng
Now he s eldom wi ll
H e s ays th ey cut some cape r in the ai r
’
O f whi ch he s got hi s fill
’
.
.
H e i s done and qui t the busi ness ,
S ettled down to qui et life ,
’
And he s hunti ng fo r some mai den
Who will b e hi s wi fe ,
One who wi ll wa s h and patch hi s b ritche s
And fe ed th e se tti ng hen,
M il k Ol d Blue and B ri ndy ,
And tend to baby B en
.
58
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
’
Th en he ll bui ld a cozy cottag e
And fur ni s h i t complete ,
’
He ll decorate the wal l s i ns i de
Wi th p i ctur e s new and swe et
.
He wi ll leave Off ri ding bronco s
And b e a di fferent man ;
H e wi ll do hi s b e s t to plea s e hi s wif e
In every way he can
.
Then together i n double har nes s
They wi ll tr ot along down the li ne ,
Unti l death s h a ll call them ove r
TO a br i g ht and sunny cli me
.
May your joys b e then compl e ted
And your s orrows have an e nd ,
Is the fonde s t wi s h of the writ er ,
Your tru e and fai thful friend
.
A DEER HUNT
Th ere
ons of this s ong E very body adds
The au thor of th is no one kno ws as the
a ne w vers e
o ri g i nal s ong has b ee n s o cha ng e d by ad di ti ons of vers es
tha t th ere is li ttle of i t l ef t
are s e ve
r al
vers i
.
.
,
.
One plea s a nt s ummer day i t came a s torm Of snow ;
I pi cked my Ol d g un and a hunti ng I di d g o
-
.
e acro s s a herd of d eer and I tr ai led them
throug h the s now ;
I tr ailed them to the mountai ns wher e str ai ght up
they di d go
I
cam
.
60
SONGS OF TH E COWBOYS
And i f you get the r e b efore I do , a nd in cas e you do
not find me ,
’
I ll ju s t b ack trai l for a year or two , fo r the gal I left
b ehi nd me
.
D OWN ON THE OL BAR- G
’
By Phil Le N oi r
The bo s s he took a tr i p to Franc e ,
’
Do w n on the ol B a r- G
He left hi s gal to r un the ranch ,
’
Do w n on the ol B a r- G
’
She would n t let us chew nor cus s ,
Had to ke ep sli cke d up like a ci ty bus ,
S o round—
up ti me w a s u-nan i mou s ,
’
Do wn on the oi B ar- G
.
.
-
-
.
O ur round up cook he soon got th u ,
’
Do w n on the ol B a r- G
Found hi s clay pi pe ri ght i n the stew,
’
D o w n on the ol Ba r-G
But when we let that feller go
’
W e marri ed gr i ef an we marri ed wo e ,
’
For the ga l opi ned s he d b a ke the dough ,
’
D o w n on the ol B a r- G
’
-
.
.
.
’
Wi s ht you d s e en her op e ni n meal
’
Do w n on the ol B a r G
We all bli nked twi ct
seemed plumb unr eal ,
’
D o w n on the ol B a r- G
’
’
We h a d fig s a n fud g e a n whi pped-up pru—
ih
’
An angel- cake all di pped i n g oo- i h ,
’
”
“
’
My Gawd , s ai d Tex , my s tom i ck s ruin
’
Do w n on the ol B ar- G
’
-
.
.
.
TH E DREAR Y, DREARY LIF E
’
61
We quit that j ob an cook-la de e ,
Do w n on the ol B a r- G
’
An pulle d our frei g ht for the lone p rai r-cc,
’
Do w n on the ol B a r G
’
For out on the range we could chew an cus s
’
’
An gi t real mean an b oi s ter -us s ,
’
Whar apron s tr i ng s they coul d n t r op e us ,
’
Do wn on the ol B a r-G
-
’
.
-
.
-
-
.
THE
D REARY, D REARY LIFE
ong a ju m bl e of s e ve ral Au thors h ip u nkno wn
I fi rs t h e ard i t a t Ki ng s to n N e w M e x i c o s u ng by a m a n
nam e d Sa m Jac ks o n
An old
s
.
.
,
,
,
.
A cowboy s li fe i s a drear y , dr eary life ,
’
Some s ay it s fre e from car e ;
Roundi ng up the c attle from mo rni ng till night
On the bald prai ri e s o bar e
’
.
Ju s t about four O clock old cook will hol le r out , 41
’
”
“
Roll out , boy s , i t s almost day
Through hi s broke n s lum b ers the punche r he wil l ask,
H a s the short summer ni g ht pass ed away ?
"
’
.
The cowboy s li fe i s a dr eary , dr eary li fe ,
’
H e s dr i ven throug h the heat and cold ;
’
Whi le the ri ch man s a - sleep i ng on hi s velvet couch ,
Dreaming of hi s s i lver and gold
’
.
Wh en the s pri ng work sets in , then our tr ouble s
wi ll b e g i n,
The we a ther b ei ng fierc e a nd cold ;
’
We re almo s t froz e , wi th the water on our clothes ,
And the cattle w e can s car cely hold
.
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
62
The cowboy s li fe i s a dreary , wear y one ,
H e work s all day to the s etti ng O f the sun
’
An d the n hi s day s work i s not do ne ,
’
For there s hi s ni ght guar d to g o on
’
.
Saddle up ! S a ddl e up l the bo s s wi ll holle r out ,
When c a mp ed down by th e Peco s Stream ,
Where the wolv es and owls wi th th ei r terrifyi ng howls
Wi ll di stur b us in our m i dni ght dr eam
”
.
You are speaki ng of your farm s , you ar e speaking Of
your charms ,
You ar e sp eaki ng of your silve r a nd gold ;
’
But a cowboy s li fe i s a dreary , dreary li fe ,
’
He s dr i ven thr oug h the heat and cold
.
O nce I loved to roam , but now I stay at home
All you puncher s take my adv i ce ;
S ell your bri dle and your saddle , quit your r o ami ng
and your tr avel s ,
And tie on to a cro s s eyed wife
-
.
THE D YIN G C OWB O Y
Au tho rs hip
di ted to H Cle m ons De ad wood
h e ard i t fro m Ke arn Ca ri co a t
cre
I fi rs t
N e b ras ka , i n 1 886
1 872
.
.
,
,
Da ko ta,
,
.
Oh , bur y me not on the lone pra i r i e
Those words came s low and mour nfully
From the p a lli d li p s of a youth that l a y
O n hi s dyi ng couch at the clo s e of day
”
“
.
H e had wa s ted a nd p i ned ti ll o er hi s brow
’
D eath s s hadow s fa s t wer e dr awi ng now ;
He had thoug ht of home and the loved ones hi gh,
As the cowboys gath er ed to s e e hi m di e
’
.
THE END OF THE YA ! UI TRAIL
63
How oft have I li s tened to thos e well- known wo r ds ,
The wi ld wi nd a nd th e s ound of b i rds ;
He had thought Of home a nd the cotto nwoo d boug hs ,
Of the sce ne s that he lov ed i n hi s chi ldhood ho ur s
.
“
I have always wi s hed to b e lai d , when I di ed ,
In th e old churchyard on the gre en hi ll s i d e ,
By the grave of my fa ther , oh , let my grave b e ;
Oh, bury me not on the lone prai r i e
.
I wi s h to b e lai d where a mother s car e
’
And a s i s ter s tear ca n mi ngle there ;
’
Wh ere fr i e nd s can come an d we ep o er m e ;
Oh , bury me not on the lo ne prai ri e
“
’
.
Oh , bu ry me not
an d hi s voi c e fail e d the r e ;
They pai d no he e d to hi s dyi ng pr a yer ;
In a narrow grave just s i x by thr ee ,
They laid hi m there on the lo ne prair i e
.
Where the dewdrops fall and the butterfly r e s ts ,
’
The wi ld r o s e bloom s on the prai r i e s cre s t ,
Where the coyote s howl a nd the w i nd spo rt s fre e ,
They lai d hi m there on the lone prairi e
.
THE END OF THE YA ! UI TRAIL
By N Howard Thorp
.
Wri tte n w h il e
ar Al tar in S ta te of Sonora ol d M ex i co
s ou th of E l Sa rs a bi re c e i vi ng a h erd of s teers for All e n
Rob i ns o n of the Lam y G ra nt ne ar Sa nta F! 1 91 4
ne
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
’
.
Living long live s i n Sonora , nested mong st moun
tai ns hi gh ,
In clo s e commune with the eagle s that soar the
Southern sky ;
64
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
Livi ng by hunti ng and fi s hing, rai s i ng their Indian
corn ,
’
Hi gh i n the S i erra Madre s , t was the r e the Yaquis
wer e born
.
Loud in thei r chi ldi sh prattle , playi ng with sti cks
and s to ne s ;
Each one a futur e warr i o r b orn to defend thei r
home s ;
Sons of Sp a rtan mothe r s , r ear ed i n thos e mountai ns
hi gh ,
Sati s fied wi th a p eaceful life ju s t as you o r I
.
Crooni ng to thei r papoose s ju s t li ke your mam
m i e or mi ne ,
Squaws of a hardy nati o n, stoi cs a nd la s t of thei r
li ne ;
’
Wi th every man s hand against them , dr i ve n from
crag to fe n,
God in H i s mercy defend them , fo r sti ll they ar e
mothers of men
.
From th e days of D on Vela s que z , Alvar ado , and
Hern a n C ortez ,
V i ctori a P e dna z a , S a nt a na , a nd Porfiri o D i az ,
’
They ve dri v en them i nto s lavery throug h Jali s co
to M i choacan ,
Thr oug h Guerrero O a xaca C amp eche to the jute
fie l ds Of Yucatan
.
Save them ti ll Mo ntezuma , God Of the Ind i a n race ,
Who , accordi ng to anci e nt tra di ti on , sh all som e
day come out of the East,
THE FAT E OF THE B EEF ST EER
65
And call all th e brave s and warri ors above and b e
neath the s od
To rally ar ound hi s standar d and pay homage to
thei r God
.
THE FATE OF THE BEEF STEER
J W Foley
a t a cow ca m p a t Sol i dad
By
H e ard this
s
u ng
.
.
-
Ranch, N e w
Hu s h a b y , Lo ng Horn , your par ds ar e all s l eep i n ;
’
’
’
Stop your dur n m i lli n an to s s i u your head ,
’
’
’
Wavi n your horns so unr e s tful , an s w e e p i n
’
Al l of the b e ef herd wi th eye s b i g an re d
’
’
M ebb e you know when you r e p awi n the dust up,
’
’
’
B e ll e ri n ug ly an s wi tchi n yo ur tai l ;
’
M ebb e you know when you ar e nea ri n the bust-up ,
’
’
N e ari n the qui tti n plac e
e nd of the tr ai l
-
’
-
.
.
Say , it s a quee r tr ai l that you ve g ot to folle r,
Scatte r ed all over the fac e Of th e land ,
All of you mad e i nto goods but th e holl er ,
’
P a rt of you bottl e d an par t Of you canned
’
Wait till they re thr ough wi th you till you knock
und er ;
’
You ve g ot s o t i ckli s h a jour ney to go
’
All of the round up s betwe en her e an thunde r
’
’
Coul d n t locate you , they ll s catter you so
’
’
.
.
-
.
’
You thi nk we crowd you
you ll have to go fa s ter ;
’
’
You ai n t all steak
you ll di s cov er that , too ;
Wai t t i ll they put yo ur re d hai r i nto pla s te r ,
’
Boil down your hoofs i nto Sti ckum s B est Glue ;
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
66
’
All of the g ri ef in thi s world ai n t bad weather ;
’
B etter li e d own there an take a s hort s noo z e
Wai t ti ll they ta n your toug h hi de i nto leather ;
’
Wai t ti ll some feller i s w e ari n your shoes
.
.
'
’
You do n t know W her e you wi ll hav e to g o roam i n ,
’
’
What wi ll b e e a ti n an what wi ll b e worn ;
’
M ebb e some woman i n N ew York wi ll b e comb i h
Out her back hai r wi th a p i ec e Of your horn ;
’
M ebb e the sam e t i me your tai l wi ll b e trav eli n ,
’
Cooked i nto s oup for some tenderfoot s feed ;
’
’
Some of your hi de i n a rop e they ll b e ravel in ,
All of your i ni nard s gone on a st amp ede
’
.
B ette r li e down ther e an r est up , 01 Ranger ;
’
You ai n t ni gh come to the e nd of your tr ai l ;
M ebb e s ome woman , to you p erfect s tr ang er ,
Wi ll brus h up crumb s wi th the end of your tai l
’
D o n t pay to b e too durn proud of your b ell e r ;
’
You ai n t th e only bad steer up north ;
’
Wi s e to r ememb er that no livi n feller
Ever can tell what a day wi ll b ri ng fo r th
’
’
.
.
FIG H TIN
’
MAD
Re ce i ve d from M is s Je a n B eaum ond y , Col orad o Sp ri ngs
Rou nd up , 1 91 1 Je an was th e n the cham p i on g i rl tri c k
rope r of the w orl d
-
.
.
I ve swum th e Colorado whe r e she r uns down clos e
to hell ;
’
I ve braced the far o l a youts at Cheyenne ;
’
I v e foug ht at muddy water s wi th a howli ng b unch
Of S i oux ,
’
And I ve eaten hot tamale s in Cayenne
’
.
SONGS OF TH E COWBOYS
68
You 11 see the Matachi nes i n a dance that s all thei r
’
’
ow n ;
The wil d Comanche s on hor s eback as they storm
a nat i v e home
’
’
You ll find there s no re s tri cti ons on what you have
to do ,
En scenes chang e li ke the s easons , each day bri ngs
somethi ng ne w
Wear old clothe s , h unt , fish , en i dl e ; d o exactly as
you plea s e ,
Fo rget set rules en schedul es
wi th a good ho r se
b etween your kne es
.
.
.
FRIJOLE B EAN SE S
By
N Howard
.
Thorp
1 91 9
’
I ve cooked you in the s tronge s t gyp s um water ;
’
I ve bo i led you up in wat er made Of s now ;
’
I ve eaten you above th e Arcti c C i rcle ,
’
I ve chewed on you i n souther n M exi co
In the camp fire , on the s tove , o r in the oven,
‘
Or buri ed i n the a s he s overni ght ,
’
You ve s ave d my l i fe on more th a n one occa s i on
’
Oh , fri j ole b e a n, you re s i mply out of s i g ht
.
-
.
Of cour s e you know , a s far as o ne s di ge s ti on
’
Is co ncerned , you d e v er break i t plumb i n two
’
Wi thout a s i ngle moment s he s i tat i on
’
Leas t that s th e reput a ti on gi ven you
’
Well here s t o your health , you li ttle brown fr i jole
’
Your health I ll pledg e a nd by you always s tand ;
’
You r e eaten by the r i ch a nd by the lowly ,
’
You re an outlawed product Of our Western land
’
.
.
,
69
THE GAL I L EFT B EHIND M E
’
Oh , li ttle b ean about you s such a savor ,
Such a muchne s s , such a ta s te that you have got ;
A parti cul arly sati s fyi ng fl av or
’
When we ve ad d ed sow and chi le to the pot
Then g ood-bye , my li ttle par d , I hate to leave you ,
’
You ve b een wi th me on many a lo ng hi ke ;
’
So I ll e a t the la s t of you that i s i n th e s ki ll et ,
Then saddl e up Ol d buck and hi t the p i ke
.
.
THE GAL I LEFT BEHIND M E
h
o
u d
ha
a d ha d d
o
h ad
d c
a
au ho
t r,
T is s ng is s o ol d t t al l the e s e nd nts of the
“
i e of ol d ag e I e l i e ve i t w as the
I n ers t n , ”
ve
rs t cow s ng I e ver
e r
fi
.
b
.
I struck the tr ail i n s eventy—
ni ne ,
The herd str ung out b eh i nd me ;
As I j ogg ed al o ng my mi nd ran back
Fo r the gal I left b ehi nd me
That sweet li ttl e gal , that tru e little gal ,
The gal I left b ehi nd me !
.
If ever I get ofi the tr a i l
’
And the Indi ans they do n t find m e ,
’
I ll m ake my way s trai g ht back a g ai n
TO the gal I left b ehi nd me
That s weet li ttle gal , that true little gal,
The g a l I left b ehi nd me !
.
The wi nd di d blow , the rai n di d flow,
The h a i l di d fall and bli nd me ;
I tho u ght Of th a t g al , that s we et li ttl e gal ,
’
That g al I d left behi nd me !
That s weet li ttle g al , that true little gal ,
The gal I left behind me !
SONGS OF THE COWBO YS
70
She wr ote ahead to the plac e I sai d ,
I w a s alway s g lad to find it ;
“
She s a y s , I am true ; when you get thr ough ,
”
Ri d e back an d you wi ll find me
That s we et li ttle g al , that true littl e gal,
The gal I left b ehi nd me !
.
When we sold out , I t ook the tr ain ,
I knew where I would find her ;
Whe n I got back we had a s m a ck,
An d that w a s no g ol - dar ned li ar
That s we et li ttle g al , that true li ttl e gal ,
The g al I left b ehi nd m e !
.
G ET
H e ar d this
Fal ls
s
ALONG , LITTLE D O GIE S
ong
s ung
i n Tom
bs tone
,
Ariz o na, b y
.
As I walked out one mo r ning fo r plea s ur e ,
I Spi e d a cow- p uncher all r i ding alone ;
’
His hat thr owed back and hi s spurs was a ji ngli n
’
AS he appr oa ched me a s i ngin thi s song
Whoop e e ti yi yo , git along , little dogies ,
’
It s your mi s fo rtune , and no ne of my ow n
Whoop ee ti yi yo , gi t along , li ttle d ogie s ,
For you know Wyomi ng wi ll b e your new home
.
.
Early i n the s pr i ng w e round up the dogi e s ,
M a rk and b r a nd and b ob 03 the i r tai l s ;
Round up our hor s e s , load up the chuck- wag on,
Th e n thr ow the dogie s upon the No rth tr ai l
.
THE GOL—
DAR NED WHEEL
It
’
’
’
w hoop i n
71
’
and y elli n and dri vi n the dog ies ;
Oh , how I wi s h you would go on ;
’
’
’
It s w hoop i n and p unchi n , g o on, li ttle d o
gi e s ,
For you know Wyomi ng wi ll b e your new home
s
.
Some boys go up the tr ai l fo r plea s ur e ,
’
But that s where you g et i t mo s t aw fuuy wrong ;
’
n
For you h ave t a n i d ea the tr oubl e they gi ve us
’
Whi le w e g o dri vi n them all along
.
s he
Your mother
was r aised way down in Texas ,
Where the j i mso n weed and sand burr s grow ;
’
Now we ll fill you up on pri ckly pear and choll a ,
Ti ll you ar e ready for the trai l to Idaho
’
-
.
’
Oh , you ll b e soup for Uncle Sam s Injuns ;
’
“
”
It s b e ef, heap beef, I hear them cry
G i t along , gi t alo ng , li ttle dogi es ,
’
’
You re goi n to b e b e ef steer s by and by
’
.
.
THE GOL—
DARNED WHEEL
M ail e d
s
ung
by
a fri e nd fro m M arfa Texas
a cow puncher nam e d H uds pe th
m e by
,
-
,
who
he ard i t
.
I can take th e wi ldest b r o nco i n the tough Ol d woolly
We s t ;
I can ri de hi m , I can break hi m , let hi m do hi s level
b est ;
I can h a ndle a ny cattl e who ever wore a coat of hai r ,
’
And I ve had a li vely rus s l e wi th a tarnal gri zzly
b ear ;
I can rop e and throw the lo ng horn of the wi lde s t
T e x as brand ,
And in In d i an di sagr eements I can play a leadi ng
hand ;
72
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
B ut at la s t I got my ma s ter , and he surely mad e me
s que a k
Wh en th e b oy s g ot m e a s traddle Of that gol- darned
wheel
-
.
It w a s at the Ea gle R an ch on the Brazos ,
When I fir s t found th a t dar ne d contr i vance that
up s et m e i n th e d u s t
A tenderfoot had broug ht it ; he was whe eli ng all
the way
F r om the sunri s e end Of fre edom out to San Fran
ci s co Bay
H e ti ed up at the ranch for to g e t out s i d e a meal ,
’
N eve r thi nki n we would monkey wi th hi s gol
darned whe el
.
.
.
Arizona Ji m b egun i t whe n he s ai d to Jack M cG i ll ,
’
There was fellows force d to limi t b ra g gi n on thei r
’
ridi n s ki ll ;
’
And he d ventur e the admi s sion the sam e fellow
that h e meant
’
Was a ve ry handy cr i tter far as ridin bronco s went ;
’ ’
But he would find that he was hueki n g ai ns t a di f
ferent ki nd of d e al
’
If he thr ew hi s l eather leggi ns gainst a g el - darn ed
whe el
.
Such a slam a g ai ns t my talent mad e m e hotter than
a mi nk ,
And I s wore th a t I would ri de hi m for amu s ement o r
fo r chi nk
’
And it w a s nothi n but a playthi ng for the kids and
such about,
.
THE G OL-DARNED WHEEL
73
And they d have their ideas shattered if they d lead
the c ri tter out
They held i t whi le I mounte d and gav e th e wor d
to go ;
’
The shove they gave to star t m e war n t unr eason
ably slow
But I neve r Spilled a cus s -word and I never spilled
a sque a l
’
I was b ui l di n r eputation on that gol- darne d wheel
’
’
.
.
.
Holy Mose s and the Pr ophets how we split th e
Texas ai r,
And the wi nd it mad e whi p- crackers of my sam e old
canthy hair ,
And so r ta comprehended as down the hill we we nt
’
Ther e was bound to b e a smash up that I c ould n t
wel l pr event
“
Oh , how them puncher s bawled , Sta y with he r,
Uncle B i ll !
Sti ck your spur s i n he r , you sucke r, turn he r muzz le
”
up the hi ll !
But I never made an answer ; I just let the cus s e s
squeal ,
’
I was b ui l di n re putati on on that gol- darne d whe el
.
.
The gr ad e was mi g hty s l opi n from the r anch down
’
to the cr e ek,
’
’
And I went a g a lli fluti n like a c r a zy lightnin
str eak
’
’
Went w hi z z i n and a d at tin fir st thi s way and th e n
that ,
’
The dar ned contrivanc e sort 0 wobbli ng like the
’
flyi n of a bat
.
74
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
I pulled upon the han d le s , but I could n t check i t up ,
And I yanked and sawed and hol lowed , but th e
’
darne d thi ng would n t stop
Then a s o rt of a thi nk er i n my brai n b egan to steal ,
That the d evi l held a mo r tga ge on that g Ol - darne d
wheel
’
.
.
I ve so rt 0 dim and hazy r emembrance of th e stop ,
’
Wi th the world a g oi n r ound and the star s all
tangle d up ;
Then ther e cam e an inte rm i s s i on that la s ted ti ll I
found
’
I w as l yi n at the r anch with the boy s all gathered
ro und ,
’
And a doctor was s ewin onth e skin where i t w a s
ri pped ,
And old Arizona whi sp er ed , Well, old boy , I gue s s
’
”
i
you re wh pp ed
And I told him I w a s bu s ted from sombrero down
to he el ,
And he g r i nned and s ai d , You ought to see tha t
”
gol darned wheel
’
’
.
.
’
GREASER JOE S PLACE
From
the
Denver Repu bl i ca n
”
.
You kin brag of ci ty cafi eys and thei r tr out from
s tr eams a nd lakes
O f thei r meals s e rve d a la carty and th eir mush
room s and their s teak s ;
’
But the gr u b at Gre a s er J oe s i s the fine s t ev er de a lt
C ome , hom b re y, and j e st tuck a bowl of chi le
’
neath your b elt !
.
76
SONGS OF TH E COWBOYS
And I wonde r if any wi ll greet me
On the san ds of the e v er g reen shor e
“
Wi th a he a rty , God ble s s you , Ol d fellow ,
’
That I ve met with so often b efo r e
.
I think Of the big-hear ted fellows
Who will di vi d e wi th you , blanket and bread ,
Wi th a pi ece of str ay b eef well r oa s ted ,
And char ge for it neve r a red
I Ofte n look upwar d and wond er
If the gr e en fiel d s wi ll s e em half so fair ,
If any the wro ng tr ai l have taken
”
And fail to b e i n over there
.
.
Fo r the tr ai l that leads down to p erdition
I s paved all the way wi th g ood de eds ,
But i n the great round up of ages ,
’
D e ar boy s , thi s won t a ns wer your ne eds
But the way to the g reen pa s tur e s , thoug h
Lead s s tr ai ght to the home i n the sky ,
And J e s us wi ll gi ve you the pa s s po rt !
To th e land of the swe et by and by
-
.
r row
na
.
Fo r the Saviour has taken the contr act
To deli v er all those who beli eve ,
At the headquarters r anch of H i s Father ,
In the gr eat r an ge where none can dece i v e
The In s pector wi ll stand at the g ateway
And the he r d , one by one , w i ll go by ,
The r ound-up by th e an g els i n judgm ent
’
M ust pas s neath H i s all- seei ng eye
.
.
No mave ri ck or slick wi ll b e talli ed
In the gr eat book Of li fe i n hi s home ,
Fo r he knows all the brand s and the earmarks
That down thr ough the a g e s have come
.
,
HELL IN T EXAS
77
But along with the tailing s and sle ep ers
The str ays mus t turn from the g ate ;
N O road brand to gai n them admi s s i on ,
“
”
But the awful sad cry of too late
.
Y et I trus t
the
la
s
t
g
r
eat
round
up ,
,
When the ri der s hall cut the b i g herd ,
That the cowboys s ha ll b e repre s ented
In the e armark and br and Of th e Lor d ;
To b e shi pp ed to the b ri ght my s ti c r egio ns
Ove r there i n gr een pa s tur e s to li e ,
And le d by the c ry s tal sti ll water s ,
In that home of the swe et by and by
in
.
HELL IN TEXA S
Th is
ong was orig i nal l y e nti tle d The B ir th of N e w
M ex i co ” I ha ve five d zfie rent vers i o ns of i t As e ach
ve rs i o n is s uppos e d to be b y a d ifiere nt au thor a nd I ca n
o nl y procure the nam es of three of th e m I s hal l bra nd i t
as a
m a ver i c k a nd l e t i t g o a t tha t
“
s
’
.
.
'
,
,
“
”
.
’
The D evil w e re told i n hell was chained ,
And a thou s a nd years he there r ema i ned ;
H e never complai ned nor di d he groan ,
But dete rmi ned to s tar t a hell of hi s own ,
Where he could torment the s oul s of men
Wi thout b ei ng chai ned i n a pri s on p en
So he a s ked the Lord i f he had on hand
Anything left when he made the land
.
.
.
The Lord sai d , Yes , I h a d plenty on hand
But I left i t down on the Ri o Gr ande ;
The fact i s , Ol d b oy , th e stuff i s so poo r
’
I don t think you could us e it in hell any mo r e
”
.
78
SONGS OF THE COWBO YS
But the D ev il went down to look at the truck,
And sai d if i t cam e a s a g i ft he w a s s tuck ;
For after e xa mi ni ng i t carefully a nd well ,
H e conclude d the plac e was too dry for hell
.
So i n order to g e t‘fi t ofi hi s ha nd s ,
The Lord promi s ed the D evil to water the lands ;
Fo r he had s ome water , or rather some dr eg s ,
A regular catha r ti c that s melle d li ke bad e gg s
Hence the deal was clo s ed and the de ed was g i ven,
And the Lord went ba ck to hi s home i n heav en
And the D evil then s ai d , I have all that i s n eed ed
”
To m ak e a g ood hell , and hence he succe eded
.
.
.
He b e g an to put tho rns in all of the tr e es ,
And mi x ed up the sand with m i lli ons of fl eas ;
And scattered tar antulas along all the r oa d s ;
Put thorns on the cactus a nd horn s on the toads
H e leng then e d the horns of the Te x as steer s ,
’
And put an addi ti on on the r abbi t s ear s ;
H e put a li ttle d evi l in the bronco s teed ,
And po i soned th e fe e t of the c ent i p ede
.
.
rattles nake b i te s you , the scorpi on sti ngs ,
mosqui to deli ghts you wi th buzzi ng wi ng s
sand-burrs prevai l , and s o do the ant s ,
tho s e who s i t down ne ed half- sole s on their
pants
The D evi l then said that thr oughout the land
’
’
H e d mana ged to keep up the D evi l s Ow n brand ,
And all would b e maver i cks unle s s they bore
The marks of scratches and bit e s and thorns by th e
score
The
The
The
And
.
.
80
SONGS OF TH E COWBOYS
While the t rain rushed on at an awful pace ,
The s ulphuro us fum es s co r ched their hands and
face ;
Wi der and wi d er the co untry gr ew ,
As fa s te r and fast er the e ngi n e fl ew
.
Loud er and loude r the thund e r c r ashed ,
And b ri ghter and br i ghte r th e li ghtning fla s hed ;
Hotte r and hott e r th e ai r b ecam e ,
Ti ll the cloth e s w er e b ur nt from e ach quiv ering
fr am e
.
And out of the di stanc e the r e ar os e a yell ,
“
“
’
”
”
Ha , ha , s a i d the D evi l , we r e neari ng hell !
Then , oh , how the pas sengers shrieked with
p ai n.
And b egg ed th e D evil
to
stop the tr ain
.
But he cap e r ed about and danced with g le e ,
And laughed and j oked at the i r mi s e ry
“
M y faithful friends , you have done the work,
And th e D evil neve r can a payday Shi r k
.
.
Y ou v e bullied the weak you ve robb ed th e poor ;
The st arvi ng brothe r you ve tur ne d from the door ;
You ve l ai d up gold wher e th e canke r rust
And have given fr e e vent to your b ea s tly lust
’
’
,
’
’
,
.
Y ou ve jus ti c e scorned and corrupti on sown,
And tr ample d the law s of natur e down ;
Y ou have dr unk ri oted cheated plundered
“
’
,
,
,
,
li e d,
And mocked at God in your hell -bo rn p ride
.
a nd
81
HI GH- CHI N BO B
You have pai d full far e , so I ll carry you through ;
’
For it s only ri ght you sho uld have your due
Why , the laborer alway s exp ects hi s hi re ,
’
SO I ll land you safe i n the lake of fir e
’
.
Whe r e your flesh wi ll waste in th e flames that r oar ,
”
n
A d my imps torment you forever mor e
Then the cowboy awoke wi th an angui s hed cry ,
His clothes wet with sw e at and his hai r standing hi gh
.
.
Then he prayed as he neve r had prayed till that
hour
’
To b e s aved fro m hi s sin and the demon s power
And hi s prayers and hi s vows were not in vain ;
For he neve r r od e the hell -b ound tr ain
.
.
HIGH- CHIN B O B
Charle s Badg er C l ark Jr
Th is s ong w as broug h t to Sa nta Fe by H e nry H erber t
Kni bbs w ho g ot i t fro m s ou th ern Ariz o na w he re i t was
s u ng by the co w bo y s
The s o ng w a s wri tte n by Charl es
B ad g er C l ark Jr a nd the orig i nal vers i o n is i n his Sun
a nd S addl e Le a th er
u nd er the ti tl e of The Gl ory
By
,
,
.
,
.
“
,
.
,
”
Tra il
“
”
.
Way hi gh up in the M oki one s , among the moun
tai n-top s ,
’
A lion cleaned a y e arli n s bone s and licked hi s
thankful chop s ;
’
n
When who upon the sce e should ride , a tri pp i n
down the m p e ,
But Hi gh- C hi n Bob of s i nful p r id e and maverick
hungr y r op e
’
.
82
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
”
Oh, gl or y be to m e !
s a ys
he,
flo wers
I ri d e m y g oo d top-hos s to-d a y
t
e
L
a
z
h
y J
of
’
”
So Ki tty ca t y ou re o urs !
’
an
fa m e s
’
unfa d i n
’
,
a nd
I m
’
top ha nd
,
,
The lion licked hi s paws so brown and dr eam e d soft
dr eams of veal ,
’
’
As Hi gh Chi n s loop come ci rcli n down and roped
hi m r ound hi s meal ;
H e yowled quick fury to th e world and all the hi lls
y elle d back !
That top—
ho s s gi ve a s no rt and whi rled and Bob
caught up the s l a ck
.
Oh, g l or y be to m e !
tra i l
”
s a ys
r
we l l hi t the g l o y
’
he ,
.
N o m a n has l oo p e d
a
’
l i o n s he a d
a nd
l i ved to d rag
the b ug g e r d e ad ,
”
Till I s hal l tel l the ta l e
.
Way hi gh up in the M oki one s that top-hos s done
hi s be st
’
’
’
M i d w hi p p in b rush and rattlin stone s from canon
fl oor to cre s t ;
Up and down and round and cros s B ob pounded
weak and wan ,
But pri de sti ll glued hi m to his hos s and glo ry dr ove
’
Oh, g l or y be to m e,
roug h,
”
s a ys
he,
“
this g l o r y tr a i l is
I ll kee p this d ol l y round the ho rn until the too t
of judg m e nt m or n,
’
Befo re I ho l le r no ug h!
’
84
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
’
JOHN GARNER S TRAIL HERD
Wri tten by
a
Val l e y
m
a
h ar d
For t Wor th
one of the w gg oners a t
ny y e rs ag o. I
rs t
e
i t s ung
,
a
Da ko ta
fi
i n the
Te xas ,
Spe arfis h
,
.
Come , all you Ol d- ti mers , and listen to my s ong ;
’
’
I ll make i t sho rt as pos s i bl e and I ll not keep you
long ;
’
I ll r elat e to you about the tim e you all r ememb er
well
Wh en we with old Jo e Garner dr ove a b eef he r d up
the tr ail
.
When we left the r anch it was e a rly in the sp ring ,
We had as good a corporal as eve r rope di d
swi ng ;
Good hands and goo d ho r se s , good outfit thr ough
and thr oug h ,
We went well equi pp e d, we wer e a j olly crew
.
We had no li ttl e herd —two thousand head o r
more
And some a s wild b rush b e eve s as you eve r saw
b efore
We swung to them all the way and sometim es by
the tai l ,
Oh , you know we had a cir cus as we all went up the
.
Till we r eached the op en pl ai ns everything went
well ,
And then them cattl e turne d in and d e alt us me rry
hell
.
JOHN GARN ER S TRAIL HERD
’
85
They stampe ded eve ry ni ght that cam e and di d it
wi thout fai l ,
Oh , you know we had a cir cus as we all went up the
tr ail
.
We would r ound th em up at mo rning and the b os s
would mak e a count ,
And say , Look here , Ol d punchers , we are out
quite an amount ;
You mu s t make all lo s s es good and do it without
fai l ,
’
O r you ll neve r get anothe r job driving up the
”
tr ail
.
Wh en we r eached Red Ri ve r we gave the Inspe ctor
the d o dge
H e swore by God Almi ghty in jai l old Joe should
lodg e
’
We told hi m if he d taken our bo s s and had him
locked i n jai l,
W e would shore g et hi s s calp as w e all cam e down
the tr ai l
.
.
.
When we r eached the Rese rvation how s qui rm i sh
we di d feel ,
Although w e had tri ed old Garne r and knew hi m
true as steel
And if w e wo uld follow him and do as he sai d to ,
That old b al d -heade d cow-thi ef would surely take
us thr ough
.
When w e reache d D odge C i ty w e dr ew our four
’
month s pay !
Ti me s w a s b ette r then , boys , than they ar e to- day
.
86
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
The way w e d rank and gambled and thr ew the girls
aro und ,
Say , a crowd of Texa s cowboys has come to take
”
our town
.
The cowb oy Se es many har d s hips , although he takes
them well ;
The fun we had upon that tr i p no human tongu e
can tell
’
The cowboy s li fe i s a dr eary li fe , though hi s m i nd
i t i s no load ,
And he always s p ends hi s mo ney li ke he found i t
i n the road
.
.
If eve r you me et old Gar ner , you mu s t me et hi m on
the squ a re ,
For he i s the b i gg e s t cow- thi ef that ever tr amped
out there
But i f you want to hear him roar and s pi n a li vely
tale ,
Just ask hi m about the time we all w e nt up the trai l
.
.
THE JOLL Y C OWB O Y
F i rs t h e ard th is s u ng
Au thor u nkno w n
by D i c k
Wils on
,
El
Pas o
,
Texas
.
.
My lover i s a cowboy , he s br av e a nd ki nd a nd true ;
H e ri de s a Spani s h po ny , he thr ows a l a s s o too ;
And when he come s to s ee me our vows we do re
deem ,
H e thr ows hi s ar ms ar ound m e a nd thus b egins to
Si ng
’
88
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
We b i d far ewell to the ci ty li fe , from no i s y crowds
we come ,
’
And b ack to dear old Texas , the cowboy s nativ e
home
.
Oh , h e i s com i ng back to marry the only gir l h e
love s ;
H e say s I am hi s dar ling , I am hi s own true love ;
’
Some day we two wil l marry and then no mor e he 11
roam ,
But s ettl e down with M ar y in a co zy li ttl e hom e
.
Ho , I m a jolly cowb oy , fr om Texas now I hail,
’
G i ve me my bond to M ary , I ll qui t the Lone Star
tr ai l
’
I love th e rolli ng prairi es , they r e fr e e fr om car e
and strife ,
’
B ut I 11 qui t the herd of longhorns fo r th e sake of my
”
little wife
’
.
.
THE LAST LO NGHO RN
I ha ve be e n u na bl e to tr ace the au thors h i p of th is s o ng
H a ve h e ard i t s ung i n m any p l aces a nd als o re ci ted
.
An anci ent long-ho rned bovin e
Lay dying by the river ;
Ther e was lack of vegetati on
And the cold win ds made him shi ver ;
A cowb oy sa t b e s i de hi m ,
Wi th sa dne s s i n his face ,
To s e e hi s final pa s s i n g ,
Thi s la st of a noble race
.
.
THE LAST LONGHORN
The anci ent e unuch struggle d
And r ai s ed hi s shaki ng head ,
“
S ayi ng , I car e not to ling e r
Whe n all my fri ends are dead
Thes e Jer s eys and these Holsteins ,
They are no fr i ends of mi ne ;
They b elo ng to the nob i li ty
Who live across the b ri ne
.
.
“
Tell the Durham s and the He r efor ds
Whe n they come a gr a zing round ,
And se e me lyi ng stark and s ti fi
Upo n the frozen ground ,
’
I do n t want them to b el low
When they s e e that I am dead ,
For I was born i n Te x a s ,
N ea r the ri ve r that i s Red
-
.
“
Tell the coyote s , when they come at ni ght ,
A-hunting for thei r prey ,
They m i ght a s well go fur the r,
’
For they ll find it wi ll not pay !
If they attempt to eat m e
They very s oon wi ll see
That my b one s and hi d e ar e pet ri fied ,
’
They ll find no beef on me
.
I rememb e r i n the s event i es ,
Full many summer s pa s t ,
There was gr a s s an d water ple nty ,
B u t i t w a s too g ood to la s t
I li ttle d ream ed what would happen
Some twenty summers hence ,
.
89
90
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
Wh e n the ne s te r came wi th hi s wife , hi s kids ,
”
H i s dog s , a nd hi s b ar b ed wi r e fenc e
H i s vo i ce s a nk to a murmur ,
H i s breath was s hort a nd qu i ck ;
The cowboy tr i ed to s ki n hi m
’
Wh en he saw he could n t ki ck ;
H e rubbed hi s kni fe upon hi s boot
Unti l he made i t shine ,
But he neve r ski nned old longhorn ,
’
’
Caz e he co ul d n t cut hi s ri ne
.
.
And the cowboy ri z up sadly
And moun ted hi s cayus e ,
Saying , The time has come when longhorns
”
And cowboys ar e no us e
And whi l e gaz ing sadly backward
Upon the d ead b ov i ne
Hi s bronc stepped i n a dog hol e
And fel l and broke hi s spi ne
.
-
.
Th e cowboys and the longhorns
Who p ardne re d i n e i ghty four
Hav e g one to thei r last roun d up
Over on th e other s hore ;
They an s wered w ell th ei r pu rpos e ,
B ut the i r g lory m us t fa d e a nd g o,
’
B ecaus e m e n say there s b ette r thi ngs
In the modern cattl e s how
-
-
'
.
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
92
Cho rus
Wi th a ng o ra c ha ps
rni va l ha ts
Che c ke d s hi r ts e n ha nd ke rc hi efs l ou d
Co m e s tra dd l e y e r hors e e n r i d e w i th us
Co m e r i de w i th the Wi l d Wes t cro wd I
’
’
Fer w e re jes t cow ca ti n p e rs o ns
’
The re s a w e l co m e fe r e ve r y one;
So w hi p up y er hors e e n l o p e a c ros s
’
To the Co w bo ys Ra—
un i o nl
e n ca
,
,
,
,
-
’
’
LIGHT , STRAN GER , LIGHT
By
”
N Howar d Thorp
.
For th i s is th e law of th e We s tern r ange ,
When a strang er ha i l s i n s i ght
“
Je s t ti e up your ho s s i n the old corral ,
’
’
”
E n li ght , stra nge r , li ght l
a land of hospi table p eopl e ,
’
You r e welcome i n daytime or ni ght ;
Always one mor e chai r at the t a ble ,
“’
’
’
”
So i t s Li gh t, str anger , l i ght l
T is
’
’
W e don t a s k no inqui s i ti ve questi ons ,
If yo ur p eopl e ar e n a ti v e or whi te ;
At our r anch you wi ll find you are welcome ,
’
’
”
’
S o it s
Li g ht , stranger , li ght l
You m a y b e an outlaw , or preacher ,
Got i nto s ome plac e ki nda ti ght
’
Some day you ll retur n the fav or ,
’
’
”
’
So it s
Li ght , str ang er, li ght l
LITTL E AD O B E CASA
93
We ar e ju s t plai n cow folks i n T exa s ,
’
B ut you ll find we ar e all about r i g ht ;
You may stay fo r a y ear an d b e welcome ,
’
’
So i t s
Light , stranger ,
-
LITTLE AD OBE CASA
By Tom B e a s ley
Wri tten i n th e s p ri ng of 1 887 a nd s u ng i n the cow-ca m ps
'
had a g ood vo i ce Wh il e B e as le y
w as w o rki ng for m e I h e a rd hi m s i ng the s o ng
Th ere s
a s to ry abou t a nugg e t of g ol d H e nry H e ap ! the ba nk
w atch m a n i n El Pas o ) a nd Tom B e as le y that s o m e of
y ou old ti m e rs m a y re cal l but I ca n t wri te i t he re
Re m e m ber ?
by the
au tho r
,
who
.
’
.
,
,
’
-
.
,
Just one year a g o to- day,
I left my Ea s ter n home ,
Hunti ng for a fortune and fo r fam e
Li ttle di d I thi nk that now
’
I d b e i n M e xi co
In thi s little adobe casa on the plains
.
.
Cho rus
The
r oof is
oca te o,
co y o tes far a nd nea r;
The G re as er r o a m s a b ou t the p l a ce a l l d a y;
Cen ti p ed es a nd ta ra ntul as
’
C ra wl o er m e w hi l e I s l ee p
In m y li ttl e a d o be cas a on the p l a i ns
The
.
Al a crani e s on the ce i li ng ,
Cu caracha s on the wall ,
My b i ll- of- fare i s always just th e same ;
Fr i joles and torti llas
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
Sti rr ed up i n chi le s auce
In my li ttl e adob e ca s a on the plai ns
.
B ut if some dark- eyed muj e r
Would cons e nt to b e my wi fe ,
I would tr y to b e contented and remain
’
Ti l fate s hould s how a b ette r plac e
To s ettle down for li fe
Than thi s li ttle adob e casa on the pl ains
THE LITTLE C OW- GIRL
By N
.
Howar d
Th orp
D addy come from Browns vi ll e ,
E n M a w from San Anto ne ;
We com e her e in a w a g o n
That ud rock en s queak e n g roan
We brought our stock en hors e s ;
! The B oy s com e on afore ;
’
E n D ad w a s p l a yi n all the way
“
”
Old Turkey i n the Str aw !
’
There s m e e n S i ster Anni e ,
E n Tom , e n Si , e n Budd ;
We all w a s r a i s e d wi th cattl e ,
’
So I g ue s s i t s i n our blood ;
E n I shore lov ethe dance s
Folk s s a y I take after Maw
When D a d take s down hi s fid d le
“
”
En play s Turkey i n th e Stra w !
.
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
96
LITTLE JO E , THE WRANGLER
By
Wri t te n by
N Ho w ar d
.
Tharp
h erd of O Ca tt le from Ch im ney
La ke N e w M e x i co to H ig g i ns Te xas 1 898 O n trai l
w e re the fo llo wi ng m en al l fro m Sa cra m e nto M ou nta i ns
or Cro w Fl a t! Pap Log an B il l B l e ve ns Wil l B ro w nfie l d
Will Fe nto n Lije Colfe l t Tom M e ws Frank Jo nes a nd
m ys e lf I t w as cop y ri g h te d a nd appe are d i n m y fi rs t ed i
tio n of So ng s of the Co w bo ys
publis hed i n 1 908
a
m e on tr il of
,
,
,
,
.
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
.
”
.
,
Li ttle Jo e , the wrangler , will never wrangl e more ;
“
”
H i s days wi th the remuda
they ar e d one
’
T w a s a y ear a g o la s t Apr i l he j oi ne d th e outfit here ,
”
A li ttle Texa s str ay and all alone
.
.
'
’
T was
long late i n the eveni ng he rod e up to the herd
On a li ttle old brown po ny he cal led Chow ;
Wi th hi s brog an shoe s an d overall s a har de r-look
ng h i
You never in your life had s een b efore
.
Hi s
saddl e
’
t was
a Southern kack bui lt many y ears
a g o,
An O K s pur on one foot i d ly hung ,
“
”
Whi le hi s hot roll in a cotton s ack was loosely
ti e d b ehi nd
’
And a canteen from th e saddle ho rn he d slung
.
.
.
H e said he had to leave hi s home , hi s da ddy d
marr i ed twi ce ,
And hi s ne w ma b e a t hi m every day or two;
“
So he saddled up old Chow one ni g ht and lit a
”
shuck thi s way
’
Thought he d try and paddle now hi s ow n ca no e
’
.
LITTL E JOE,
THE
WRANGLER
97
Sai d he d try and do the b e st he could i f we d o nly
gi v e hi m work,
’
”
Thoug h he did n t know str ai ght up about a
cow ;
So the bo s s he cut hi m out a mount and ki nde r put
’
’
hi m on,
For he sor ter liked the l ittle str ay somehow
.
Taught him how to he rd th e hor s es and learn to
know them al l ,
’
To round em up by dayli ght ; if he could
To follow the chuck- wagon and to always hi tch the
team
”
And help the cos i nero rus tle wood
.
We d d ri ven to Red Ri ver and the weath e r had
b ee n fine ;
We were camp ed down on the south s i de i n a b end ,
Wh en a norther com m enc e d bl owi ng and we
d ouble d up our guar ds ,
Fo r it t ook all hands to hold the cattl e then
’
.
Li ttle Joe , the wr angler , w a s called out wi th the r e s t ,
And s carcely ha d the ki d g ot to the herd ,
When the cattle they stam p e ded ; li k e a hailsto rm ,
lo ng they flew ,
And all of us wer e ridi ng fo r the lead
.
Tween the str eaks of li ghtni ng we could s e e a
horse far out ahead
’
T w a s li ttle J o e , th e wr an g ler , i n the lead ;
”
H e w a s r i di ng Old Blue Rocket wi th hi s s li cker
’
bove hi s head ,
T ry i ng to che ck the lea ders in thei r s p eed
’
.
98
SON G S or TH E COW B OYS
At la s t we g ot them mi lli ng and ki nder qui ete d
down ,
And the extr a guar d back to the camp di d go ;
’
But on e of them w a s m i s s i n , a nd we a ll knew at a
glanc e
’
T w a s our little Texas str ay — poo r Wrang ler Jo e
.
Ne x t morni ng ju s t at sunup we found where Rocket
fell ,
D own i n a wa s hout twe nty feet below ;
B eneath hi s hor s e , ma s hed to a p ulp , hi s s purs had
rung the knell
For our li ttle Texa s str a y
poor Wr angle r Jo e
.
LO VE O N THE RANGE
I g ot this fro m Doc H e nde rs o n at a n Al bu q u er q u e Li ve
S toc k As s oci a ti o n m ee ti ng
.
Li ttle g al , I m not a s i nger ; if I we r e I d sing to you
A tal e of love tha t s ur e wo ul d b e a wond er ;
It would b eat them op ry s i ngers when they s i ng ,
“
’
Love I ll b e tru e
”
As tru e a s moon and s tar s a shi ning yond er
’
’
.
My han d s ar e b i g , and clum s y
I ca n t pi ck th e
li ght gui tar ;
’
And no d oubt you ll s a y my li ng o s i dle prattle ;
’
But what can you expect? I m fr om the D ou b le
C i rcle- Bar ,
Where all my fingers l ear ned was punchi ng cattle
’
’
.
I know the tr ai l bli ndfold ed and I never knew a fe ar ,
’
For I ve fol low ed it for y ears , ho neysuckl e ;
SONGS OF TH E COWBOYS
I oo
Back i n the d a y when I w as young , I knew a man
na me d Hod s ;
’
’
’
H e w a s n t fit fer nothi n c ep turni n up the clods
.
But he came We s t in fifty- thr e e b ehi nd a pai r of mules
’
And t was har d to tell b etwe en the three whi ch
was the b i ggest fool s
.
Up on the pl ai ns old Hods he got — there hi s
tr o uble b e g an
Oh , he s ur e d i d g e t i n tr ouble ,
and old H ods i e
was a man
.
.
H e met a b unch of Indi an bucks led by G ero ni mo ,
And what them Indi ans di d to hi m
well , s horel y
’
I do n t know
.
’
But they li fted ofl old H ods i e s skelp a nd left hi m
out to di e ,
’
’
And if it had n t b een fo r me , he d b een in the
sweet by a nd by
.
But I packed him to Santa F ! , and ther e I found hi s
mules ,
Fo r them dad- blamed two critter s had got the In
d i ans fooled
.
’
I don t know how they done it , but they shore did
get away ,
’
And them tw o i s livin up to thi s very day
.
ol d H ods i e
’
s
fe et got toughened up ; he got to b e
a s port ;
’
H e Op e ned up a gamblin hous e and a pla ce of low
m
r esort ;
THE MUL E SKINN ERS
1 01
-
He got the pretti e st dancing gir ls that ever coul d
b e fo und ,
’
Them g i rl s feet was li ke rubb er balls , they never
stayed on the gr ound
.
And then thar came B i ll y the Kid , he e nvi ed Hod
’
s i e s wealth ;
l
’
He told old Hod s to leave the town , t wou d b e
b etter for hi s he a lth ;
Old H od s i e took the hi nt and got , but he carried
all hi s wealth
.
And he we nt back to Noo York S tate wi th lots of
di nero
’
And now they say he s s enato r , but of that I shore
’
don t know
.
THE M ULE - SKINNERS
G ot th is s o ng fro m Joh n Cal d wel l , a t La ke Vall ey , N e w
M ex i co H e wa s bro nco -bus te r for S L C o utfit
.
.
.
.
.
In r eadi n the story of e a rly days , i t s a cause of
much per s ona l pai n
At the way the author men leave out us i n char ge
of the wago n tr ai n ;
’
Grante d the re s t of em worked and fit i n the b est
way that they could do
’
If it w a s n t for us tha t ski nned the mul e s , how
would the bunch have come thr oug h?
’
’
.
-
We have fr osted our s elves on the prai ri e sweeps
- br i n i n’ the S i oux to book
a
,
g
And the s oje r m en never had no kick that the front
r ank had b een for sook ;
1 02
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
They cu s sed warm holes i n the bli zzar d s teeth
’
when w ai ti n fer g rub and tents ,
But the comf o rts of home we a l lu s b r ung though
at ti me s at our exp ens e
’
We have sweated and swor e i n the dese rt land
Where the whi te s and glare s li ke s now,
’
’
A rompi n around forty r ods from hell p l a yi n ta g
wi th Geronimo ;
We larruped the jacks whe n the b ullet s flew an d
’
’
then when t was getti n too hot ,
We used fo r our brea s twork s mules , dead mul es ,
’
and we give em back shot for shot
.
We nev er was r i g ged up p ut ty , of cour s e , and we
’
d i d n t talk too perli te ,
’
But we brung up the jol ti n wagon tr ain to the tr ai l
e nd of e v ery fig ht ;
We made a tr ai l thr ough the ho s ti le lands and our
’
whi p w a s the vi ctory s key ,
’
’
So why i n the nam e of all that s fair can t we figg er
in history ?
MUSTAN G GRAY
Au thors h ip
credi te d to Tom G re y Tul a ros a N e w M ex i co
I fi rs t h e ard i t s u ng b y a m a n na m e d S a nfo rd who kep t
a s al oo n i n La As ce ns i o n M e x i co abou t 1 888
,
.
,
,
,
,
.
There was a b r a ve old Te xa n,
They c a lle d hi m Mu s tang Gr a y ;
H e left hi s home when but a youth,
We nt ran g i ng far away
.
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
1 04
An d there th e lonely trav eler,
Whe n pa s s i ng by hi s grave ,
Wi ll shed a farewell tear
’
O er the brave s t of the brav e
.
And he ll g o no more
’
a-
rangi ng ,
The s ava g e to affri g ht ;
He has heard hi s last war -whoop ,
And fought hi s la s t fight
.
MY LITTLE BROWN M ULE
By N
Wri tte n i n 1 91 2
I
o w ned
,
.
How ard Th orp
a nta Fe co ncerni ng a pe t tri c k m ul e
a tS
,
.
mammy s a burr o , hi s daddy s a horse ;
’
’
O f cour s e y ou 11 all think i t s a mi g hty queer cros s
’
’
H e s got brains i n hi s eye s , he s nary a fool ;
As smart as a cr i cket , my li ttl e brown mule
Hi s
’
’
.
.
’
H e s alwa y s i n mi s chi ef, he ll shy at a b ug ;
’
When he s ee s a ti n Li zzy he ll jump li ke a frog ;
’
’
H e s a voi c e li ke a tr umpet hi s coat s alway s bri ght ;
’
’
n
H e s a s gentle a s can b e i f the ci ch i s n t ti g ht
’
,
.
Ju s t pul l on that fl a nk ci nch a li ttle too long
’
And he won t do a thi ng ti ll you a re mounted and on ;
The n far ewell , rel a ti o ns , g ood bye to the crowd ,
For you are off on a journey hi gh up i n the cloud s
-
.
At ni ght I don t stake hi m , ju s t tur n him foot- loo s e ,
’
And insi de of two hour s he s as full as a goo s e ;
’
NE W
NATIONAL ANTHEM
1 05
’
He s a g r eat old camp-robb er when the boys ar e i n
b ed
Root s among th e bake ovens for bacon and bread
.
He s a great one to wr angle on, he knows eve ry
hor s e ,
’
’
’
And if one of em s mi s s i ng he s as mad as the
bo s s ;
Hi s s e ns e just come natur al , he w a s never i n
school ,
’
H e s as wi s e as a par son, my little brown mule
’
.
Di d you
ask
if I d sell him — well , not on your
’
lif e ;
The day we were marr i ed I g ave him to the wife ;
And now two of my ki d s dai ly r i de hi m to school ;
’
Oh , no , mo ney can t buy hi m , my little brown
mule
.
NEW NATIO NAL ANT H E M
Accred i te d
a p
c m
i n the
u
Pa nha nd le of
to B rr Si m s
.
ard
xas
He
Te
it
a
s ung a t
.
My countr y , t i s of the e ,
Lan d wher e thi ngs u s ed to b e
S o cheap we croak
Land of the mav eri cks ,
’
L and of the puncher s tri cks ,
Thy cultur e i nroad pi cks
The hi de of thi s p eeler- bloke
’
.
-
.
Some of the puncher s s we a r
Th a t what they e a t and wear
m
a tador
1 06
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
Takes all thei r calves
O ther s vow that they
Eat o nly o nce a day
Jerked beef and prai rie hay ,
Wa s hed down wi th tallow salves
.
.
These s alty dogs b ut crave ,
To pul l them out the grave ,
Ju s t one Ki owa s pur
They know they s ti ll wi ll din e
On fle sh and b e ef the ti me ;
But gi ve us , Lord di vi ne ,
“
”
One hen fr uit stir
.
.
O ur father s land, wi th thee ,
B e s t trai l s of li be rty ,
We chose to s top
’
We d o n t e x actly li ke
S o s oon to hencew ard hi k e ,
’
But , hell , we ll take the pi ke
’
If thi s d o n t stop
’
.
.
—
NIG G ER
THREE BLO CK
BRONC O-BUSTER
‘
By
N How ar d
.
Th orp
H e ca- s u i e d w i d me , most ruinou s ,
’
T i ll ma haid j est popped d e ce i li n ,
Ma s tum m i ck got tangl ed up w i d my feet
’
T i ll i t d o ne lo s t all fe eli n ;
M a ol d black no s e comm enced ter bleed ,
-
Cc-eu-i ed ,
s outhern
Texa s w ord for bucki ng
.
1 08
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
Oh, dere
no hors e w ha t c a n t be rod e
’
Da t s w ha t d e w hi te fo l ks s a y !
’
’
E n de re a i n t a m a n w ha t ca n t be thro w e d
a in
’
’
t
,
,
OH , M AH
I finds i tjes t d a t w a y !
NIGHT- HE RDIN G S ON G
h tl y cha ng e d I l os t the
o ther ve rs es w h en one of m y ra nch buil di ngs burne d
do w n a t Pal m a N e w M e x i co s o m e y e ars ag o
This is
par t of
an
,
o
old s ng , s l ig
.
.
,
Oh , s low up , dogi e s , qui t your rov i ng round ,
You have wan d ered an d tram p e d a ll ov er the gr ound ;
Oh , gr az e along , do gi e s , an d fe ed ld nda s low,
’
And d on t forev er b e on the go ,
Oh , move slow, dogi e s , move s low
.
I have ci r cl e- herde d , tr ai l -herd ed , ni ght h erded ,
and cro s s -her d e d , too ,
’
’
But to ke ep you tog e ther that s what I can t do ;
’
My hors e i s l e g weary and I m awful ti red ,
’
B ut i f you g e t aw a y I m s ur e to g e t fir ed ,
Bunch up , li ttle dogi es , bunch up
-
.
’
Oh , s a y , li ttle dogi e s , when are you g oi n to lay down
’
And qui t thi s forever s ifti n around ?
My li mb s ar e weary , m y s eat i s s ore ;
’
Oh , lay down , dogi e s , li ke you v e la i d b efore ,
Lay d own , li ttle d ogi e s , lay down
.
Oh , lay sti ll , do gie s , s i nc e you ha ve l ai d down ,
S tretch away out on th e bi g open ground ;
S nore lou d , li ttle do gi e s , an d d rown the wi ld s ound
Th a t wi ll all g o aw a y whe n the day rol l s roun d ,
Lay s ti l l, li ttl e dogie s , lay s ti ll
.
THE OLD CHISHOLM TRAIL
1 09
THE OLD CHISHO LM TRAIL
o
hou a d
h
o
u
o
o
h
a
The rig i n of t is s ng is
nkn w n
T ere are s e ve r l
t
s n
ve rs es
to i t
the m re w is ke y the m re
ve rs es
n er kn ws
E very
fe w m re vers es S ng
na i n l i ne to M e i
fr m the
.
o
pu ch
Ca d a
o
a
x co
.
h
o
o
u
.
.
Come along , boys , and li s ten to my tale ,
’
I ll tell you of my tr ouble on the old C hi s holm Trai l
.
Co m a ti y i y oup y, y oup y y a , y oup y y a .
Coma ti yi y oup y , y oup y y a
.
I star ted up the tr ai l O ctob er twenty —
thi r d ,
I s tar te d up the tr ai l wi th the 2 -U herd
.
Oh , a ten- doll a r ho s s and a forty - d oll ar saddle ,
’
’
’
And I m g o i n to p unchi n Te x a s cattle
.
’
I woke up one m orni n afore dayli ght ,
And afore I sle ep the moon shine s bri ght
.
Old B en B olt w a s a blamed g ood bo s s ,
’
But he d go to s e e the girls on a sor e- b acked hos s
.
O ld B e n B olt was a fin e old m a n,
’
’
And y ou d know ther e was whi skey wherever he d
land
.
My ho s s thr owed me
My ho s s thr owe d me
at the creek c a lled Mud ,
off round the 2 -U her d
ofl
.
’
La s t ti me I s a w hi m he was go i n cro s s the le v el
’
- hi cki n ’ up hi s he els and a - runni n li ke the d evi l
A
.
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
1 1 0
a—
looki n
cloudy in the west ,
li ke r ai n,
’
And my damne d old sli cker s i n the wagon
It
’
s
’
’
Cr i pple d my hos s , I don t know how,
’
Ropi n at the hor ns of a 2-U cow
.
We hit Caldwell and we hit her on the fly ,
We b edded down the cattle on the hi ll close by
.
No chaps , no s li cker , and it s p ouri n down rai n ,
’
And I swear , by God , I ll never night-he r d again
’
’
Feet i n the stirrups and seat in the saddle ,
I hung and r attled wi th them longho rn cattl e
.
.
Last ni ght I wa s on guar d and the leader broke the
ranks ,
I hi t my hor s e down th e shoulders and I spurr ed
hi m i n the flanks
.
The wind comm enced to blow and th e rain b egan to
fall ,
’
Hit looked , by grab , like we was goi n to los e ’ em
all
.
I jumped i n the saddle and grabb ed holt the horn ,
B e s t blamed cow puncher eve r was born
-
.
I popp ed my foot i n the s ti r rup and gave a little y ell ,
The tai l cattle broke an d the leaders went to hell
.
I d on t gi ve a damn if they never do s top ;
’
I ll ri de as long as an e i ght- day clock
’
.
1 1 2
SO NGS OF TH E COWBOYS
Co m a i i vi y oup y. y oup y ya . y oup y y a.
Co m a ti y i y oup y , y oup y y a
.
THE O LD C OWM AN
By Sco tt Levi tt,
G re at
Fall s
Got s o ng fro m Joe l Tho m as , but
know
au thor s nam e
,
at
M ontana
the
tim e
I did not
’
.
When the sap come s up thr ough the cottonwood
roots ,
’
And the fir s t b i rds li ght mongst the quaki ng a s p
shoots ;
When the la s t brown edge at the s pri nkli ng snow
Shows a crocus bloom and the cattle low
To the smell of spr i ng from th e g re eni n g butte s ;
Then my wi nter of year s fe el s a pul s i ng flood
And a d i s co ntent i s let loo s e i n my bloo d ;
For the pa s t come s up li ke a m i s t-rob ed sun,
And the s ap of old long i ng s b e g i ns to run
Ti ll a thousand wi s he s bur s t i nto bud !
From out th e pa s t r i de s a c ar e fre e crew ,
Stea d y and re ckle s s r i ght wi ld , but true
Bi g Sag B i l l a nd old M i lk Ri ver Blake ,
M us s el s hell Jack and Pecos Jake ,
’
A r i d i ng ahead of em two by two !
Now th e coyote s call to the round up camp ,
’
And the ni ght herd s out where the gra s s grow s
damp ;
The herders are s i ngi ng a s oothi ng tune ,
For th e cows are re s tle s s b eneath the moon ,
’
’
And I hear em bawli ng and hear em s tamp !
And , oh , what s i ngi ng from out the ni g ht !
Not the voice nor the tune , but a somethi ng q ui te
-
-
-
OL
’
D YNAMI T E
1 1
3
Fi lled wi th tru s t ; and the mi lli ng cows
For g et stampedi ng and s tart to b row s e ,
For th e voi ce of the her d er ha s s e t them ri ght
Gi ve me one more d a y of the old fre e lan d ,
Uncur s ed by a road or a barbe d wi r e s tran d ;
A hor s e to r i d e a nd the s i ght , a s I pa s s
Of a thousan d hor ns ri s i ng out of the gras s ,
’
And I ll pu s h back my chair and l a y down my
hand !
Le t me ri d e , old- tim er , r i d e i nto the we s t ,
’
Ti ll I m lo s t i n the s uns et upo n the cre s t
An d wi th i t draw down to whatev er li e s
’
On the ran g e that s hi d ti ll we top the ri s e ;
’
Where the round up bo s s ha s s taked out what s
b es t
Old M i lk Ri v er Bl a ke and B i g Sa g B i ll ,
’
And Jack and Jake , a t the top 0 the hi ll ,
Ar e wai ti ng to r i de li ke we u s e d to r i d e
At the round- up camp down the Great D i v i de ,
”
Ti ll the boss of all herders s i ngs , Peace , b e s ti ll
.
-
-
.
.
OL
’
DYN AMITE
By Phi l
Le
N oir
The outlaw s tand s wi th b li ndfold eye s ,
H i s fe et s et wi de ap art ;
H i s coal- black hi d e gleam s i n the sun
’
’
Thar s kil li n in hi s heart
.
A puncher s quats upon hi s heels ,
Hi s s a ddle a t hi s s i de ;
’
’
H e s s i z i n up 01 Dynami te ,
That he i s b ooked to ri d e
’
.
1 1
4
SO NGS OF TH E COWBOYS
The cowboy r i s es , li ft s hi s sad d le
’
’
i
A l ttle tune he s hum m i n
Walk s catli ke all aroun d the hos s
“
’
Hold hi m , boys , I m
Now up above the outlaw s back
H e li ft s th e load of le a ther ;
Then car e- ful- lee he lets i t down ,
’
Li ke the drop p i n of a feather
’
.
Ol D ynami te he s tands stock- s ti ll ,
Plumb li ke a g e ntled po ny
’
.
’
’
A le a p , a y ell ! a n Buck s all s et
”
- On wi th the cer e mo ne e
-
.
’
The s nub bers ri p th e bli ndfold oh,
The puncher s y i p a nd y ell ;
’
O l Dyn am i te gi ve s one g rand snort ,
Then star ts hi s li ttle hell
.
He plunge s forw a rd on hi s fe et , l
H i s hi nd heel s i n th e ai r ;
Then up a nd down he bucks and backs
’Li ke a loco r ocki n chai r
.
But now he stop s
he sp i n s around
He bawls , he b i te s , he ki ck s !
’
H e r at s strai g ht up i nto the ai r,
Then down on two steel st i cks
.
My Gawd ! The cr owd scream s
“
’
’
”
H e s bolt i n for the s tan d !
Then just a s qui ck he j erks up s hort
’
’
’
—
An thar s Buck a s ti cki n grand
But look !
”
.
1 1
6
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
Bull- whackers , en S kinners e n swamp er s ,
The m e n who handle d the te a m s ,
Bri ngi ng provi s i o ns over the plai n ,
’
It s befitt i ng to me , i t s eem s ,
That the i r d eed s should b e ever rememb ered
’
Mo ng st the b e s t of the fro nti er s men ;
So thr ee cheer s for one I remembe r we l l ,
’
Thr ee cheers for Old G raz i n B en
,
.
OLD HANK
By
N
Dri fti n along the
’
and I ,
’
Out on a s couti n
.
H
owar d Thorp
ri m
-
rock, old
’
tri p ,
ci rcli n
Camp- Robber
the flat
lands
d ry ,
gn of the cattl e , w a tchi n which w a y
they dr i ft ,
’
’ ’
Pulli n em out of the bog hole s , gi vi n the weak
o ne s a li ft ,
’ ’
Throwi n em back on the Home Range , e a ch da y
i n a di ff ere nt place ,
In s li ckers e n le g gi ns of leather , thr ough sand
storms that bli s te r your fa ce
Cutti n the
’
’
si
.
_
B os s in the Ran ch House r i de s easy
his day s of
wo rry ar e g one ,
For he ma d e hi s pi le i n the old Trai l days , the day s
of the old lo nghorn
’
Y ep , I m o nly a worn out old Pu ncher
though
the B o s s thi nk s a he ap of m e !
For I w a s wi th him on the Pe cos , in the Raid of
S eventy -Thr e e !
.
-
OLD N ORTH
1 1
7
Then he marr i ed , e n got hi m reli gi on , e n tell s how
’
you mu s t n t do wro ng ,
’
How a Brand i s the cowm an s protecti on
then
’
he ll deal you a Go s pel So ng !
’
But I ll tell you , Old Hank w a s the sli ckest , that
ev er la i d li ne on a steer ,
’
Or burnt over a bran d wi th a runni n i ron , or worke d
’
on an old cow s ear !
’
’
Course , fr i e nd s , all thi s talk s confi d e nti a l ,
’
wo ul d n t wa nt Ol d H ank to s e e
’
That I hav e n t chang e d m y damn ed reli g i on, s i nce
the Trai l Her d of S eve nty Thre e !
-
-
OLD NORTH
”
oward Tho rp
When the Mormo ns d ri fted southwar d
H e w a s one of a ten s pan team
By
N H
.
-
,
,
The b i gg e s t young ox them Utah
B ull- whackers hed ever seen
.
Tawny en bony e n holler ,
At thr e e year s full s i x feet tall ,
’
’
En he d break the cha i n wheneve r he d
str ai n
En a heavy wagon st a ll
.
Out of a te am of twe nty ,
Whi ch d i ed i n th e Whi te S and s Pa s s ,
H e a lone p ulled throug h e n made hi s way
To the s pr i n g s of San N i colas
.
1 1
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
8
Twe nty Mormo n women ,
In a ll , fifty Mormon soul s ,
D i ed from the lack of water,
Payi ng the desert tol l
.
The ranchmen , on learni ng the s to ry ,
How every one ha d di ed ,
Let the b i g s teer have hi s freedom
Thr oug h the Or g a n Valley wi de
.
In the wi nter he d dr i ft dow n so u thward
To the Frankli n Mountai ns warm ,
’
’
In the summ er you d find hi m g ra z i n
’
On the top of El Torro s hor n
’
.
No one ever mole sts him,
A monume nt he stand s
To tho s e pi one ers i n s e a rch of home s ,
That gallant M ormon b a nd
.
Thi s was the story as told me
’
By a r anchman s li ttle la s s ,
“
”
O f North , the s teer who ro a ms th e plai ns ,
And of those i n the White Sands Pass
.
O LD PAINT
H e ard this s u ng by a pu nch er w ho had b e e n on a s p ree
i n Pe cos C i ty H e had ta ke n a job te m po ra ri l y as s h e ep
rus t l erfor a n ou tfi t i n Ind epe nde nce Dra w , do w n the ri ver,
’
I w o n t m e nti o n his nam e
a nd w as as ham e d of the job
.
.
.
Refra i n
’
G oo d b y e, Ol d Pa i nt, I m
’
G ood bye, Ol d Pa i nt, I m
-
l ea vi n Che y e nne,
’
a l ea vi n Che y e nne
a
-
’
.
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
1 20
I ve boug ht em by the thou s a nd , I ve own e d em
everywhere
’
’
n
n
There s o e st a d s out among em all alon e ;
’
Pai nt marked everywhere , tai l a li ttle sho rt 0
hai r ,
Old hors e , you never fai led to bri ng me home !
’
’
’
’
-
M emb er when they s tole you fr om Pas s C i ty ,
E n locked you up i ns i d e the Ju a rez j ai l?
Sai d that you had eaten up an e nti re crop of wheat ,
En I had to ru s tle round en g e t your bai l?
’
I got you cro s s th e river en matched you in a
race ,
we b et the last red dollar we could scrape ?
how you b i t old Rocki ng Chai r , the hor s e you
run agai ns t ,
mad e hi m tur n hi s head en lose the race ?
We was both young e n fool i s h in them gr een days
long a g o,
’
I don t b eli eve in telli ng stori e s out of s chool !
’
M emb er when we rop ed th e p i annet e n j erked he r
out the door ?
’
’
Hush up ! Old Pai nt ! you re talki n li ke a fool !
Well , old hor s e , y ou re bur i ed , en your tr oubles ,
they are done ,
But I often s i t en think of what we di d ,
E n re call the many scrap es we had , en used to think
i t fun ,
E s w e rod e along the Rio Grande
Good—
bye , old Kid !
’
OLD TIM E COWBOY
-
1 21
O LD -TIME C OWB O Y
Unde rs ta nd this w as wri t te n by a n old cow -puncher w ho
’
cl a i ms he w as dragg i ng his rope al o ng a nd s om e one e ls e s
calf g ot tang l e d up i n i t, a nd he l ande d i n the H unts vil l e
Pe n H is na m e w as Rog ers I fi rs t h e ard i t s u ng b y Tom
B e as l e y , a t H ue co Ta nks , Te xas
.
.
.
Com
e , a ll
y ou m
e l anchol y folk s , w herev e ry 0u m a y b e ,
I ll s i ng you a bout the cowboy who s e li fe i s li ght
and free ;
H e roams a b out the prair i e , and at ni ght when he
li e s down ,
Hi s heart i s a s g a y a s the flowers i n May i n hi s b e d
upo n the gr ound
’
.
They r e a li ttle b i t rough , I must confe s s , the m t
of them at le a s t ;
But if you d o not h unt a qua rr el , you can live wi th
them i n pea ce ;
’
For if you do , you re sur e to ru e the day you j oi ned
thei r hand
They wi ll follow you up and shoot i t out wi th you ,
just man to man
’
.
.
D i d you ever g o to a cowboy whe never hung ry and dry,
As ki ng for a dollar and hav e hi m you d eny?
’
He ll ju s t pull out hi s po cket b ook an d hand y ou
a note ,
They ar e the fellows to help you whenever you ar e
broke
-
.
to thei r ran che s and stay a while
they neve r
a s k a ce nt ;
And when they g o to town thei r money is fr e ely sp e nt
G0
.
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
1 22
They walk s tra i ght up and take a d rink, paying for
eve ry one ,
’
n
And they eve r ask your pa r don forany thing they v e
done
.
Wh en they go to thei r dances , some dance while
other s pat ;
The y ri de thei r bucki ng bro ncos and wear the i r
b r oad- b rimmed hat s ;
With thei r Cali fo rnia s addles and their pants stuck
in thei r boots ,
You can hear thei r s pur s a-jm gli ng and p erhaps
s ome of them shoots
.
Com e , all soft-heart e d tend erfe et , if you want to
have som e fun ,
’
G o live amo ng the cowboys , they ll show y ou how
’
i t s d one ;
’
They ll tr e a t you like a pri nce , my boys , about them
’
there s nothi ng mean ;
’
But do n t try to give them too much advi ce , fo r all
’
of them ai n t gr een
.
“
OLD TROUBLE
”
A L RAN CH C OLORED
C O OK
By N Howar d Thorp
.
Mom s b r eaki n over d e ole Ranch before d e moon s
gone way ,
’
’
D at s a s i gn er early fros ti n in de f a ll ;
’
Two Roosters on de water tr oug h fore d e bre a k er
’
’
’
d ay ,
D at s g wi ne te r make som e tr ouble fer
’
us
all
.
SO NGS OF TH E COWBOYS
1 24
E ve r y ti m e I
So m e
s tea l a
r a is es hel l of co urs e
’
a l w a ys d rif ti n wes t fro m
one
See m s I m
’
hors e ,
,
,
Sa n Anto ne !
La s t week I found a stake-p i n I ha d lo s t ,
’
Je s t an i ro n one
bout a dollar i t had co s t ,
O n i t w a s ti ed a rope ,
En i t almo s t g ot my g oat ,
When I foun d the other e nd ti ed to a hor s e !
’
I m a s i nnoce nt as any man can b e ,
’
But I m afrai d the Ju d ge wi ll not ag re e ,
’
As there i s n t a ny us e
’
In di s hi n up a poor e x cu s e ,
I mig ht a s well j e s t s addl e up and fle e !
THE OVERLAND STAGE
By
N Howar d
.
Thorp
’
They do n t dr i ve the Overlan d S ta g e no more
L i ke they u s ed to whe n I w a s young ,
Wi th four half-broke bro nc s out i n the lead ,
E n two i n the w a g o n to ng u e
Wi th old D i ck Hu b er up on the bo x ,
The me s s e ng er by hi s s i d e ,
’
They d dri v e li ke he l l when they heard the yell
Of Apaches on the ri de J
.
.
The thorough brace s s wi ngi ng to and fro ,
’
E s we d hi t the chuck hole s de ep ,
’
The clatter of chai ns g ai ns t s i ngle tree s
On the d own g rade roug h and s te ep ;
-
-
THE OVERLA ND S TAG E
Es
1 25
’
we d take the hi ll acro s s the draw,
’
You d hear the b ucks ki n pop
’
An d Huber pulli n on the li nes
E s the team wo ul d near the top
.
What to do i n the ca s e of a hold up
Wa s all the talk one da y
’
Ji m Bla ck s ai d he d fork over ,
If let g o on hi s w a y ;
’
’
’
Tom Moore lowe d he d come a s hootin
If they tri ed that g am e on him ,
’
For he d b een held up o nce b efore
O n the road to S i lver Inn
-
.
.
The woman pa s s e ng er we d pi cke d up ,
In the vall ey a t e a rly d a wn
H a d nev er mo v e d or s poke a word
’
Till we d pa s s ed through Hollow Horn
E n I coul d s e e qui te qui ck e n pronto
That s he was br i dle wi s e ;
Thou gh m a de up of s mi les and d i mples ,
She had the D evi l in her eye s
’
.
-
.
For he r shawl was worn Spani s h —
wi s e ,
E n he r eye s alone s hone b r i g ht ,
En se eme d to noti ce y er every move
’
E s they d shi ft from left to r i ght
E n her li ttle sli m gi rli s h fig ur e
S eemed p i ti fully a lo ne ,
E n made one fe el you s hould always protect
The yo ung away from home
.
.
1 26
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
B 0ut then the coach g i ve an awful lur ch ,
E s we struck the r i v er s and ,
When I come to , there stood the girl
Wi th a Wi nche s ter i n her hand ;
“
You g e nts pi le out , yer hand s hold hi gh !
Wa s the order that s he g av e ,
“
Ju s t one fal s e pl a y er a crooked move ,
’
”
n
E you ll fill an early grave !
’
Well , she cleaned us out to the last red cent ,
E n the mes s e ng er , too , er cour s e ,
E n she m ad e old Hub er cut loose the team
E n s addle he r up a hors e
E s she rode aw a y , we he a rd her say ,
In a voi ce wi th a mu s i cal note ,
“
B oy s , t i mes have changed on the open range ,
”
S i nce the women have got the vote !
.
THE PECO S RIVER ! UEEN
By N Howar d Tho rp
.
Wri tte n on Lo wer Pe cos
x co u
Roy B e an had tol d
th ac co c
Cop y rig h ted i n m y boo pub h d
N e w M e i , J ne , 1 901
m e of
is f t
n erni ng
k
l is e i n 1 908
,
af te r
Pat ty
,
.
.
Where th e Peco s Ri ver wi nd s and tur ns i n i ts j our
ney to the s ea ,
From i ts whi te wall s of sand a nd rock stri ving e v e r
to b e fre e ,
N ear the hi ghe s t rai lroad br i dge that all the s e mod
ern t i me s hav e s een
Dwells fai r young Patty Moorhead , the Pecos Ri ver
! uee n
.
1 28
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
Old Pe co s Tom , the cowman , en y our humble
s er v ant , me ,
’
Wa s a s w a pp i n cow camp stori e s i n the fall of
e i g hty thre e
Wh en my g a z e i t sort e r f a s tene d on a g un slung on
hi s s i d e ,
Worth s ome fif te en thou s and d ollar s
s a y , mayb e
’
you thi nk I v e li e d ?
B ut the h a ndle was plumb covered wi th di amonds
of all s i z e ,
’
’
E n she d g li tt er , en she d gl i s ten , e s she hung down
from hi s s i de
-
-
.
.
You co ul d have bought hi s whole d arn ed outfit fer
’
a y e arli n s teer er two ,
’
Hat , boot s , ov erall s , en chaps
the r e w a s nothin
that w a s ne w ;
Li ve d do w n i n a d ug out , on j est sour- doug h b re a d
e n b eef ,
E n was j u s t about a s happy e s a Choctaw Indi an chi ef
.
F i gur ed he h a d ten tho usand cattl e , en th e whole
wi d e range w a s hi s ,
E n if he w anted a g ood s i x shooter it w a s no one
’
el s e s bi z ;
S o whe n he shi ppe d wi th e r trai n er s teer s to Chi
cag o late one fall ,
’
’
E n w a s s trolli n on up State Str eet , he thou g ht he d
make a call
-
On the b i gge st j ewelry outfit that kept gaudy
thi n g s to wear ,
But whe n he a s ke d fer a s i x—
shooter th e J ew clerk
b e g an to s tare ;
A PRAIRI E SO NG
1 29
we v e g ot one that was or d ere d for a b l oom i n
E ng li s h lord ,
’
’
But I re cko n from your outfit i t s a gun y ou ca n t
afford
Ye s ,
’
’
.
It wi ll co s t you fiftee n thou s and
Say s Old Tom,
“
Just g ive her here ,
’
You counter jum p i n g orri fi
e n he g rabbe d
hi m by the ear ,
E n he pe eled ofi fif te en thou s a nd to the Hebr ew
’
s tandi n there ,
’
D on t ju d g e We s tern cowm en by the out
”
fits that they wear !
-
A PRAIRIE S ON G
h eard th is s u ng
a M is s Wi nd s o r
I
by
a cow g i rl at Ch eyenne Round up
-
-
.
Oh , musi c spr i ng s under the gallop i ng hoofs ,
Out on the plai ns ;
Wh ere m i le afte r mi le dr op s b ehi nd wi th a s m i le ,
And to- morrow s eem s always to tempt and b e
gui le ,
O ut on the plains
.
Oh , where ar e the tr ace s of ye s terday s ride?
There to the north ;
Wher e alfalfa and s a g e s i g h themselv e s i nto
sleep ,
Wh ere the butt e s loom up s uddenly , startli ng and
steep ,
There to the north
’
.
1
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
30
Oh , r e s t not my po ny , there s youth i n my heart ,
Out on the pl a i ns ;
And the wi nd s i ng s a wild s o ng to rob me of car e ,
’
And there s r oom here to live and to love and to
dare ,
Out on th e plai ns
’
.
THE PRO SPECTOR
By
Wri tten a t the Sl as h
ra nch ho us e
,
N Howar d
.
S
horp
T
W Ra nch
,
on the
doo r Of
i n the Sa n And re as M ou ntai ns
the ol d
.
Twelve years have I li ved i n thi s de s olate place ,
Far from all hab i tati on
not even a face
H ave I s e en, s ave Apaches , tho s e unwelcome guests ,
Pa s s me by as I work wi th my pick in th e brea s t
.
of the mi llion s whos e brain—
stri ng has
s napped ,
Who s ee s vi s i ons of gold in thos e canyons un
m a pped .
Une x plored , unpro s p ected , that lay just ah ead ,
N ear th e Ar c of th e B ow where so many li e dead ?
Am I
one
’
Li ke all m i ners I ve vi sions , whi ch may s ome day
come true ,
Of wher e I would go and what I would do
’
If I d but o nce find the ve i n whi ch carr i e s the ore ,
’
My d ay s of har d work would forever b e o er
.
There s a fren zy of fur y tha t bo i l s i n o ne s ve i ns
Wi ll i t pay fo r the hard s hi ps , will it pay for my pai ns ?
’
T i s a di s torte d fing er that b ecko ns , i t s eem s ,
To the land Of i llus i ons , the plac e Of my dr eams
’
’
.
1
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
32
In the
Ol d
day s the punchers took ju s t what they
g ot
It w a s s owb elly , b eans , and the Ol d coff ee pot ;
’
B u t now you come howli n for p i e and for cake ,
Then you cu s s at the cook for a g ood bellyache
-
.
’
You s a y that I m Ol d , wi th my feet on the s ki ds ;
’
’
’
’
Well, I m telli n you now that you re nothi n but
If you reckon your mounts ar e some snaky and
raw,
’
’
Just try ridi n herd on a stove that won t draw
.
When you look at my apron, you r e re a di n my
bran d ,
Four X, whi ch i s s i gn for the b e s t i n the land ;
On bottle or s ack i t s ure s t and s for g oo d luck,
So
li ne up , you waddie s , and wrangle your chuck
’
’
.
’
’
No use Of your s norti n a nd fighti n your head
If you li ke i t wi th ch i le , jus t eat what I s ai d ;
For I a i m to b e bo s s of thi s e nd Of the s how,
’
’
’
’
While you re p unchin cattle and I m p unchi n
dough
THE RAILRO AD C ORRAL
Au th or
C i ty
,
u nkno wn
Te xas
.
M ail e d to m e by
a frie nd a t Col orado
.
Oh , we re up i n the mo rning ere br e
aking of the
’
da y ,
Th e chuck wa g on s bu s y , the fla p ja cks i n play ;
-
’
THE RAILROAD CORRAL
1
33
’
The herd is a s ti r O e r hi ll s i de and vale ,
Wi th the ni ght ri ders roun di ng them i nto the trai l
Oh , come take up your ci nches , come s hake out
your rei n s ;
Come wake yo ur old b r o nco and break for the
plai ns ;
Come rous t out your steers from the lo ng chaparral ,
For the outfit i s ofi to the rai lroad corr al
.
.
The s un ci rcles upward ; the s te er s a s they plod
Ar e poundi ng to powder the hot pr ai ri e so d ;
And i t s eem s , a s the dus t make s you di zzy and s i ck,
’
That w e ll never reach noon and the cool shady
creek
But ti e up your kerchi ef a nd ply up your na g ;
Come dry up your g rum b le s a nd try not to l a g ;
Come wi th your steer s from the long chaparral ,
’
Fo r we re far on the road to the r ai lr oad corral
.
.
The af ternoon shadows ar e starti ng to lean,
When the chuck-wa g on s ti cks i n the mar s hy ravine ;
The herd s catter s farther th an vi s i on can look,
Fo r you can b et all true punchers wi ll help out the
cook
Come shake out your rawhide a nd s na ke it up fai r ;
Come break yo ur Ol d bronco to take i n hi s s har e ;
Come from your steer s i n the long chaparral ,
’
Fo r t i s all i n the drive to the r ai lr oad corral
.
.
But the longe s t of day s mu s t reach eveni ng at l a s t ,
The hi ll s all cli m b e d , the creek s a ll p a s t ;
The ti r ed herd droops i n the yellowi ng li ght ;
’
Le t them loaf i f they wi ll , for the rai lro a d s i n s i ght
.
1
34
SO NGS OF TH E COWBOYS
So flap up your holster and s na p up your belt ,
And s trap up your sa ddl e whos e lap you have felt ;
G ood- bye to the s teer s from lo ng chaparral ,
’
’
For there s a town that s a tr unk by the rai lroad
corr al
.
THE RAMBLIN G C OWB O Y
Au thor s uppos e d
i t a t Va n H orn,
to ha ve be en K
Te xas
.
Tol l i ve r
.
!
fi rs t he ard
.
There w a s a ri ch Ol d rancher who li ved in the coun
try by ;
He had a lovely daughte r on whom I ca s t my eye ;
She w a s pretty , tall , and hand s ome , both neat and
very fair ;
’
There s no othe r gi rl in the country with he r I
coul d compar e
.
I asked her i f s he would b e wi lling for me to cr os s
the plai ns ;
She s ai d s he would b e tr uthful until I returned
a g ai n ;
She sai d s he would b e faithf ul until death di d prove
unkind ,
So we ki s s ed , s hook hands , and pa rted , and I left
my gi rl b eh i nd
.
I left th e state Of Te xa s , for Ar i zo na I was bound ;
I l ande d i n Tom b stone C i ty , I vi ewe d th e place all
roun d
M oney and work were ple nti ful , and the cowboy s
they were ki nd ,
But the o nl y thought of my he art was the gi r l I left
b e hi nd
.
.
1
36
SO NGS OF THE C OWBOYS
Sam fir s t came out to Te x a s a cowboy for to b e ,
A ki nder he a rte d fellow y ou seldom ever s ee
-
.
Sam u s ed to d eal in r ace s tock , one call ed the
D ento n mar e ;
He matche d her i n s crub race s a nd took he r to the
f ai r
Sam u s ed to coin the money , and sp e nt i t jus t as
free ;
H e alway s dr a nk good whi skey wherever he mi g ht
be
-
.
.
Sam left the Co l li ns r anch , i n the merry mo nth Of
May ,
Wi th a herd Of Te x as cattle the Black Hi l l s for to
s ee ;
S old out i n Custer C i ty , a nd then g ot on a s pre e ,
A har der s et of cowboy s you s el d om ever s e e
.
On their way back to Texa s th ey r obbe d the U P
tr ai n,
And the n s pli t up i n couple s a nd star te d out a g ai n ;
Jo e Colli ns an d hi s p artner were overtake n s oo n,
Wi th all the i r har d- ear ne d money they had to meet
th ei r doom
.
.
.
Sam made i t b a ck to Te x a s , all r i g ht up wi th care ;
Rode i nto town of D enton wi th al l hi s frie nd s to
hare
’
Sam s li fe w a s short i n Te x a s ; thr e e robb eri e s di d
he do ;
H e robb ed all the pas senger mail and express car s
too
s
.
.
SA M BASS
1
37
Sam had four compani on s
fo ur bold and dar i ng
lads
They were Ri chardson , Jackson , Joe Col lin s , and
Old D a d ;
Four more bold and daring cowboys the Ranger s
never knew ,
They whi pped th e Texas Range r s and r an the boys
in blue
.
Sam and a nothe r compani on , calle d Ar kansas for
short ,
Was s hot by a Texas Ranger by the nam e Of
Thoma s Floyd ;
’
Oh , Tom i s a b i g s i x footer a nd thi nk s he s mighty
-
fly ,
B ut I can tell you hi s r acket ,
the sly
he
’
s
a deadbeat on
.
Jim Murphy w a s ar rested and then relea s ed on bail ;
H e j ump ed hi s b ond at Tyler and then took the
tr ain for Terrell ;
But Mayor Jo ne s had posted Ji m and that w a s all a
s tall ,
’
T w a s onl y a plan to capture Sam before the comi ng
fall
.
Sam met hi s fate at Round Rock , July th e twenty
fir s t ;
They p i erc ed poor Sam wi th r i fle ball s and emptied
out hi s purse
Poo r Sam he i s a corpse and six foot under clay ,
And Jackson in the bushe s try i ng to g e t away
.
.
1
38
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
’
’
Jim had borrowed Sam s good gold and di d n t want
to pay ,
The only s hot he saw was to give poor S am away
He sold out Sam and B ar ne s and left the i r fri ends
to mourn ,
Oh , what a s corchi ng Jim will g e t when Gab riel
blow s hi s horn
.
.
And so he sold out Sam and B arne s and left the i r
fri end s to mour n,
Oh , what a s corchi n g Ji m wi ll get when Gabri el
blows hi s hor n
’
’
Perhaps he s got to heaven , there s none of us can
say ,
’
But if I am ri ght in my sur mis e he s gone the othe r
way
.
.
SKY- HI GH
By
The s c
ar d Tho rp
N H ow
.
r eam of the outlaw s pli t the ai r
As we ti e d hi m har d and fa s t
To the s nubb i ng pos t i n th e horse corral,
For hi s t urn had come at la s t
-
le a rn the feel of spur s of s teel
As they graz e a long e a ch s i d e ,
E n B ug g er pulle d up hi s chap s a hole ,
For he w a s the next to r i de
To
.
We knew he d s tri ke , w e knew he d b i te ,
’
We knew he d ki ck a nd rear ,
So we g rabb ed hi s ear s en held hi s head ,
T i ll B ugge r g ot up near
’
’
.
1
40
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
up , you Ol d Cloud- Gette r ,
I can se e the Pe a rly Gate ,
’
’
We re a doi n the Grand As cens i on ,
’
Loop in t he loops , as sur e as fate ;
GO
-
’
If I m a judge Of horse s ,
’
You re not one , two , thre e ,
Wi th the g entle stock we u s ed to ride
”
At the old 3 C l
-
H e whi pp ed Ol d Sky -H igh ti ll he quit ,
He roweled hi m up an d down ;
Old Sky Hi gh ha d a plenty ,
H e could har dly turn ar ound
-
.
En we hear d old B ugger hum m i n ,
E s he turned the outlaw free ,
“ ’
’
i
i
I m a r d n kid from Texas ,
Fr om th e Ol d 3- C
’
A S ONG OF THE RANGE
By
Jam e s
o
dams
B a rt n A
Se nt m e by M is s N e l l B e ns o n
The bawl of a steer to a cowb oy s ear i s mu s i c of
sweete s t s trai n,
And the yelli ng note s Of the g ray coyote s to him are
a g lad refrai n ;
’
The rap i d b eat of hi s bro nco s feet on the s od as he
spe eds along
’
Keeps liveni ng tim e to the ri ngi ng rhyme of hi s
r ollicki ng cowboy song
’
.
A SO NG OF TH E RA NG E
1
41
Hi s eye s ar e b right and hi s h ea rt i s light as the
s moke of hi s c i garette ,
’
Ther e s never a care for hi s so ul to b ear , no
tr ouble s to make hi m fret ;
For a ki ngly crown i n the no i s y town hi s s addle he
would not change
’
No life s o fre e as the lif e we se e way out on the
cattle r ange
.
H i- l a y!
H i- l o!
ra ng e a w a y
On the d e c k of a bronc gf s teel
Wi th a c a rel es s fli r t
Of a r awhi de q ui r t
And a dig of the r o we l ed hee l
To the
,
,
.
The w i nds m a y ho wl ,
And the thund er g ro wl ,
O r the breeze m a y s oftl y m o a n;
’
The r i d e r s l ife
Is the life fo r m e
The s a ddl e a ki ngl y thro ne
,
.
At the long day s clos e he hi s bronco thr ows with
the bunch in the b o s s corral ,
And a li ght he sp i e s i n the b ri g ht blue eyes of hi s
welcomi ng ranche r gal ;
’
T i s a li g ht tha t tell s of the love tha t dwell s i n the
soul of hi s li ttle de a r ,
And a ki s s he s li p s to her waiting lips whe n no one
i s watchi ng near
H i s glad thoug ht s stray to the comi ng day when
’
aw a y to the town they ll r i d e ,
’
And the nu pti al brand by the parson s hand will b e
plac ed on hi s bonni e b ri d e,
’
.
1
SO NGS OF TH E COWBOYS
42
And they 11 g allop b a ck to the Ol d home shack i n the
li fe that i s new a nd s trang e
The r i der bold a nd the gi rl Of g ol d , the que en Of the
cattle range
’
.
H i- l o!
H i- l a y !
F or the w or k is
play
Whe n l o ve s i n the co w bo y s e yes
When his hea r t is l ig ht
As the cl o uds of w hi te
Tha t s wi m i n the s um m e r s ki es ;
’
’
,
And his jo l l y s ong
Sp ee ds the ho urs
al
ong
As he thi nks of the li ttl e g a l
Wi th the g o l de n ha i r
’
Who l l be w a i ti ng the re
At the g a te of the ho m e co rra l
.
SPECKLE S
By N
Th is
.
H owar
d Thorp
o ng was wri t ten i n 1 906 a t Pal m a N ew M e x i co
m y Ol d r anch I g a ve the co ntrac t to p ri nt m y fi rs t l i t tl e
boo k e nt i tl ed So ngs of the Co w bo ys to M r P A
Spe c km a n N e ws P ri nt S hop Es ta nci a N e w M e x i co who
p ri nte d i t i n 1 908
s
,
,
.
”
,
,
,
,
,
.
.
.
,
.
H e was little e n peaked en thi n , e n narry a no
account hors e
’
’
Least that s the way you d de s cri b e him in cas e
that th e b east ha d b ee n lo s t
But fo r s i ngl e a nd dou b l e cu s s ednes s en do uble
ce nter fir e d s in
’
Th e hors e never come out 0 Texas that was half
way kn e e- hi gh to him
-
.
1
SO NGS OF TH E CO WB OYS
44
His
color , could n t desc ri b e i t, somethi ng li ke a
paint s hop i n di str ess
’
-
.
Them was Indi a n ti me s , yo ung feller , that I m
a - telli ng about ,
’
’
f
And O t s the ti me I ve s een the red men fi g ht and
put the boy s i n blue to rout
A good horse i n them days , young feller , woul d
often s ave your li fe
On e that i n any rac e co ul d hold the pace when the
r ed ski n bands were r i fe
’
.
-
.
’
settin one night at sunset , j e s t i ns i de that
hall ,
En Molli e he d go ne to the mi lk pen as she heard
the mi lk cows bawl ,
’
’
When out 0 b rush en thicket , ri di n towards me
’
out 0 the we st ,
Comes Antelop e John , hi s hor s e on the run , en
’
ridi n like one posses sed
I was
a
-
-
.
”
Apaches ar e out ! he shouted ; for God s sak e ,
hurry and go !
’
’
They re close b ehi nd , comi n li ke the wi nd ; catch
”
your hors e and come on, Jo e !
Old Speckle s was s a d dl e d , I g r a bbed my gun ,
p i cked Molli e up a s I pa s s ed ;
With the gr i t of her ki nd s he hung on behi nd and
never a que s t i on asked
’
.
D own throug h cai i ons deep , ove r me sas ste ep , Old
Speckle s never fa i le d ;
In his heart of s teel he se emed to feel the r ed- skin s
on our tr ai l ;
TE N THOUSAN D TEXAS RANG ERS
1
45
On, ever onward , toward s Fort C r aig h e sped the
whole ni ght thr oug h ;
Though handi capp ed by a double load , he out
stri pped the r ed ski ns too
-
.
N eve r will I for g et that ri de , en how at fir st day
break
W e galloped out Of the chaparr al e n e ntere d th e old
fo rt gate
.
TEN THOUSAND TEXAS RANGERS
By
Wri tten i n M ar ch
pos e d
Te xas
h
a pro
of
o tp o c
Ca o a
1 91 7 , a t the ti m e w e n G erm ny
“
r vi n es
t
t t e y re t ke the l s
lif rni
i , Ari z n , a nd
,
x co ha h
a
o a
N e w M e x co
to M e i
,
Ali ce Corb in
.
Ten thousand Te x as Ran g er s ar e langhin fit to
kill
’
At the joke of the G erman Kai ser , an hi s fier ce ,
i mp e ri ous wi ll
’
For he sez , s ez he , to the M exi can boob , b idin
b ehind hi s beard ,
’
Old Uncle Sam is an easy mar k, o r so I ve always
’
heerd
Go up and take hi s cattle , and tak e a stat e o r
two ,
’
Texa s , New M exi co , Ar i z one
don t stop befor e
’
you re thr ough ;
Fo r we s hall make war together , and together make
”
peac e , b e s ai d ,
’
Now ai n t i t a joke — s o e asy- lik e — as easy as
’
makin bread !
1
46
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
’
N OW if he had wante d a g un man , he could n t
-
hav e cho s e a worse ,
’
For Pancho Vi ll a ha s got more knack i n fix in a man
for th e hear s e ,
And if he had thought that a gun-man could swi pe
that p i ece of earth ,
’ ’
H e should a remem b ere d we got the tr i ck of
’
handlin a gun fr om bi rth !
Ten thousand Te x a s Rangers are shaki n with
wi cked g lee
At the j oke Of th e German Kai se r in his fier ce per
’
They ar e bu s t i n th ei r b utti ns wi th la ughi n , they
’
ar e l a ughi n fit to ki ll
“
’
”
By Gawd , s ez they , but th a t s one on him , by
’
”
Gawd , but that s one on B i ll !
’
’
THE TEN DE RF O OT
By Yank
I g ot the
s ong
Hi ts on,
fro m
pu nchers rem e m ber
,
Denv er, C olorado
,
1
889
B a ttl e Axe , w ho m l o ts
a t Phc
e nix, Ari z o na , 1 899
old
.
I thought one spri ng , just for fun ,
’
I d s e e how cow- punchi ng w a s do ne ;
And whe n the round ups had begun
I tackle d the cattle ki ng
“
Say s he , My foreman i s i n town,
’
H e s at the plaza , hi s name i s Brown
’
’
If you ll s e e hi m he ll take you down
’
”
Says I , That s just th e thi ng
-
-
.
.
.
1
48
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
They pi cke d me up and carr i ed me i n
And rubb ed me down wi th a n Ol d st a k e -p i n
’
Tha t s the way they all b egi n ;
’
”
You re do i ng well , say s Brown
’
And i n the morni ng , i f you don t die ,
’
”
I ll gi ve you a nother hors e to try
“
’
”
Oh , s a y , can t I walk? says I
”
Says he , Y e s
back to town
.
.
.
.
.
’
’
I ve travele d up a nd I ve traveled down ,
’
I ve traveled thi s countr y round a nd round ,
’
’
I ve li ve d i n ci ty a nd I ve lived in town ,
’
But I ve g ot thi s much to say !
B efor e you try cow- punchi ng , ki s s your wi fe,
Take a heavy i ns uranc e on your li fe ,
Then out your thr oat wi th a barlow knife ,
’
For i t s easier done that way
.
THE TEXAS C OWB O Y
An old s ong , cre di ted to Al
Pe as e of Rou nd Rock Texas
I firs t he ard i t s u ng by J La tham a t La Luz N e w M ex i c o
,
.
,
Oh , I am a Te x as cowboy ,
Far away from home ;
If eve r I g e t back to Texas
I neve r mor e will roam
.
M ontana i s too cold for me
And the winters are too long ;
B efore the round- ups do b egi n ,
O ur money i s all gone
.
.
.
THE TEXAS COWBOY
Take thi s Ol d hen- s ki n b eddi ng ,
Too thin to keep me warm ;
I nearly fr e ez e to death , my boys ,
’
Whe neve r there s a storm
.
And take thi s old tarp ol e on
TOO thi n to shi eld my frame
I got i t down i n N ew M exi co
’
A d e ali n a Monte game
-
.
Now to w i n the s e fancy leggi ns
’
I ll have e noug h to do ;
They cost me tw enty dollar s
The day that they were new
.
I have an outfit on the Mus selshell ,
’
But that I ll never se e ,
Unle s s I g e t s ent to represent
The c i rcle or D T
.
.
’
I ve worked up in Nebraska
Wher e th e gra s s grow s ten feet high ,
And the cattle ar e such rustlers
That they s eldom ever di e ;
’
I ve worke d up in th e sand hi l ls ,
And down upon the Platte ,
Where the cowboy s ar e g ood fellows
And th e cattle always fat ;
I ve tr aveled lot s of countr y ,
’
N ebraska s hi lls of s and ,
D own thr oug h th e Ind i a n Nation ,
And up th e Ri o Grande ;
’
1
49
1
50
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
But the Bad lands Of Mo ntana
’
Ar e th e worst I ve ever s een ,
The cowboys ar e all tenderfeet,
And the dogi e s are all lean
.
If you want to s ee some bad lands ,
Go over on the D ry ;
You wi ll b og d own i n the coule e s
Where the mountains reach the sky
A tenderfoot to lead you
Who nev er know s the w a y ;
You ar e playi ng i n the b e s t of luck
If you e a t more than o nc e a d a y
.
Y our grub
is
bread a nd bacon,
And cofie e black a s i nk ;
The water s o full Of a lk a li
It i s ha r dly fit to dr i nk
.
They wi ll wake you i n the morning,
B efore the break of day ,
And s en d you on a c i rcle
A hundr ed m i le s away
.
All along the Yellow s to ne
’
T i s cold the year around ;
You wi ll surely g e t co ns umpti on
By s leep i ng on the ground
.
Work i n Montana
1
Is s i x mo nths i n th e year ;
When a ll your b i ll s are s ettled ,
There i s nothing left fo r b e er
‘
.
.
1
SONGS OF TH E COWBOYS
52
Texas Tony thought t was taught hi m when he
went to Sunday s chool ,
’
’
In the days when h e was swi mmi n in the Baptis
p i ous pool ,
That it wa s a celebrati on that was star ted on th e
dock
’
When the Scrib es an Phar i s e e s was landed onto
Plymouth Rock
Bronco B i l ly sai d he recko ned Tex had got hi s
s to ri e s mixed ,
’
That hi s m e m ry whe el s had r un too long without
’
a b e i n fixed ;
’
That the d a y , if he r ememb ered , was a day 0
jubil e e
’
In r emembranc e of Ab e Lincoln s ettin all the nig
gers fre e
’
.
-
.
Brocky Jim , fr om Ari z ony , b egged to di ff e r , sayin
he
’
In hi s younger days had wa s ted lot s 0 time on his
to r y ;
’
’
An the day was c eleb r ated in thank s gi vi n fe r
the chan g e
When the Revoluti on fellers dr i fte d Ofi King
’
G eor g e s rang e
’
’
Lengthy Jo ne s a n Watt M cG overn a n the Rio
Grandy Ki d
’
Coi nci ded in b e li ev i n , as th e pre s ent wr i ter
’
.
di d,
’
j e s t a y e arl y e p ock to remi nd us 0 the
d ay
When C olumbus happened on us in a one xp e cte d
way
It
w as
.
THRE E- BLOCK TOM
1
53
Uncle Dick, the 01 hos s r angl er , s ot an smoked
hi s p i pe t i ll all
’
0 the feller s w i th the quest i on then at stak e had
tuk a fall ,
’
’
An whe n a s ked fe r hi s opi nion 0 the matter sai d
that he
’
’
Had hi s i de e O the Ob je ck O the y early jub i lee
’
T w a s a day when all the fell ers so i nc li ned could
s how the i r tha nks
’
’
Fe r whatever they d a mi nd to by a fil l i n up their
tanks
’
’
Till thei r leg s g ot weak an wear y fr om a carry i n
the load
’
He had s p ent the day in D enve r an he r eckoned
that he knowe d
’
’
’
.
THREE- BLO CK TO M
By N H owar d Tho rp
.
We was tr ai li n some stolen cattle
’
In the wi nter Of 98,
From the S i erra Capi tane s
Past Dry Re d Lake
’
.
On north to the Gran ! ui vi ra ,
P a s t the M a l a p ai s ,
Huggi ng thei r trai l li ke leeche s
Rode T hre e-Block Tom a nd I
.
They pa s se d Punta d e Agua ,
Left Manz ana s on the west ,
E s tanci a to the e a s tward
They ha rdly stoppe d to re st
.
1
SON GS OF TH E COWBOYS
54
He r e en ther e we found a calf
That had played out e n droppe d b ehi nd
They were ma ki ng thi rty m i les a d a y ,
D riving li ke the wi nd
.
We caught up with them at C eri llos ,
On the T P Road ;
’ ’
Dri v em plai n out of the countr y ,
Exp ect i ng there to load
.
.
.
But s omehow the ru s tler s got wi nd of us ,
E n q ui t the cattle there ,
En thoug h we hunte d for s everal days
’
We could n t find the pai r
.
At la s t we g ot i ns tr uct i ons
From the supr eme b o s s ,
To s h i p to Kans a s C i ty
To Cl a y , Ro b i ns o n Ro s s
.
’
But when I co m me nce d a l oa di n ,
’
I fo und Tom w a s n t ther e ;
A puncher tol d me he w a s i n Lamy ,
Loaded up fer fai r
-
.
I hi re d the two hor s e w a g on
E n s e t o u t th a t ni g ht
Whe n I foun d Ol d Tom i n Lamy ,
He w a s s ur e s ome s i g ht
SO
-
.
He h a d ce ntipede s a nd rattlers ,
G i la mo ns ter s by the s core ,
’
P utti n them throug h the i r p a ce s
On Jon Pfl ue g e r s barroom floor
’
.
1
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
56
Included i n th e shi pment
Wa s a cowboy cal led Tom L
’
S a i d he w a s a fighti n cow punche r ,
En hi s middle name was Hell ;
.
-
He wanted a r eturn ticket
B a ck on the line ,
’
O r he d li ck the w hol e Block outfit,
One at a time !
r
T OP HAND
F ro m
Ji m B ro w nfie l d , C ro w Fl a t, N e w M e x i c o , wi nter
of 1 899 Au thors h ip c re d i t e d to Fra nk Roo ne y; w ri t te n
abou t 1 87 7 Th is s ong has be e n expurg a te d by m e , a s
all the ol d t i m ers kno w tha t a s o rig i nall y s u ng a rou nd the
cow- ca m ps i t cou l d not ha ve b e e n p ri n te d , as i t w ou l d
ha ve burned up the pa per on w h i ch i t w as w ri tte n Jim ,
do y ou re m e m be r how y ou had to fo rce thos e fres h egg s
“
”
do wn a nd the jug s ai d , G oo G oo ? I pu bl is h e d th is
Top H a nd i n m y e arli e r e d i t i o n
s o ng u nd e r the ti tl e of
The Old nam e , w h i ch a l l cow pu nch e rs re m e m ber, d i d
not s ou nd g ood i n p ri nt
.
.
.
.
-
.
’
Wh i le you re all s o fr i s ky , I ll s i ng a li ttle song
Thi nk a horn Of whi s key wi ll help the thi ng along ,
’
’
It s all a b out the Top H a n d when he s bu s ted flat ,
B ummi ng round town, i n hi s M exi cana hat
’
H e d lai d up 511 wi nter and hi s po cket b ook i s flat
’
H i s clothe s ar e all tatters , but he don t mi nd that
’
.
-
.
.
S e e him in town with a crowd that he knows
’
Rolli ng ci g arette s an a - smoki ng thr ough hi s no s e
Fi r s t thi ng he tell s you, he own s a certain b r and ,
Leads you to thi nk he i s a da i sy hand
.
.
TOP HA ND
1
57
N ext thi ng he tell s you bout hi s tri p up the
tr a i l ,
All the w a y up to Kan s a s to fi ni s h up hi s tale
’
.
Put hi m on a hors e , he s a dandy hand to work ;
’
Put hi m i n the brand i ng p en, he s d ead sure to
shir k
Wi th natur al- leaf tobacco in the pockets of hi s
ve s t
’
He ll tell you hi s Ca li forny pants ar e the b est
’
’
He s handle d lot s of cattle , ha s n t any fe a r s ,
Ca n dr a w hi s s i xty dollars , for the b al ance of his
y ear s
’
-
.
.
.
Put hi m on herd , he s a cus s in all day
’
Anything tri e s , i t s s ur e to g e t away
When you have round-up he te l ls i t all about
’
’
’
He s go i ng to do th e cutti n and you can t keep
hi m out
If anythi ng g oe s wrong he lay s it on the screw s ,
Says the la zy devil s were tryi ng to take a s nooze
’
-
’
.
.
.
Wh en he meets a g re ene r he ain t a frai d to rig ,
Stands hi m on a chuck box and make s hi m danc e
a ji g ,
Wai ve s a loade d cutte r , make s hi m s i ng and
s hout ,
’
’
He s a reg u lar B en Thomp s on , when the bo s s a i n t
’
-
When the bo s s ai n t about he leave s hi s le g gins in
camp ,
He swear s a man who wear s them i s wors e than a
tr amp
’
.
1
58
SO NGS OF THE COWB OYS
Says he s not car i ng for wages that he e a r ns ,
’
’ ’
Fo r d a d s rich in Texas n got wagonload s to
burn ;
’
But when he goe s to town he s sur e to t a ke
’
"
it in;
a lway s b ee n dreaded wherev er he has b een
He ri de s a fancy hor s e he i s a fav ori te m a n
He
’
s
,
.
,
Can get more cre di t than a common waddi e can
.
’
When you ship the cattle he s bound to go along
To keep th e bo s s from dri nld ng a nd to s ee that
’
nothi ng s wro ng ;
Wh erev er he g oes, catch on to hi s game ,
He li ke s to b e called wi th a han d le to hi s name ;
’
He s always pri mpi ng wi th a po cket looki ng g la s s ;
’
From the top to the bottom he s a holy j ackass
-
.
THE U S U RANGE
Re ce i ve d th is
N e w M e x i co
s
ong fro m
Gl a be M e r cha nt, B l ac k Ri ver,
.
Come , cowboys , and listen to my song ;
’
’
I m i n hope s I ll pleas e you a nd not keep you long ;
’
I ll s i ng you Of thi ng s you may thi nk strange
About We st Texas and the U S U r ange
.
You may go to Stamford and there s e e a man
Who wear s a whi te shi rt and i s a s ki ng for hand s ;
’
You may a s k hi m for work and he ll an s wer you
sho rt ;
He wi ll hurry you up , for he wants you to start
He wi ll put you i n a wag o n and b e Off i n the ra i n ,
You will go upon Tongue River on the U S U range
.
1
60
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
WESTERN LIFE
Appe are d i n De nve r Republ i can
”
.
od
Sue , w ho I w as t l
o
Accre di te d to Bronco
w r te i t
.
I buckle d on a brace of guns and sall i e d to Wy
om i ng r
’
And thoug ht I d ki ll some Indi ans ere day had
r each ed the g loami ng ;
B ut the fir s t red- s ki n that cam e to vi ew upon the
r e s ervati on
“
Said ! Ah , my dear Ol d colleg e chum , I give you
”
salutation !
’
For Western life ain t wild and woolly now ;
They ar e up on Wagner , Ibsen ,
And adore the gir ls of G i b s o n
’
For Weste rn life ain t wi ld and woolly now !
I str uck a little prairi e town and saw two cowboys
gree t.
’
And thought ! Now ther e ll be powder bur nt when
”
thes e two bad m e n m ee t ;
But the fir s t one says to Numb e r Two ! Y ou b eat
me , D i ck , at tenni s !
Now come along , Ol d chap , and r ead the fini sh of
’
n
i
Pe denn s
.
Fo r We stern life ain t wild and w oolly now ;
The cowboy know s a lot b e s i de s more cow ;
He can two- s te p , do hem s titchi ng ,
And do ha y or baseb all p i tchi ng
’
Fo r W e ste rn life ai n t wild and woolly now !
’
H0 !
WES TWARD
1
61
de s pai r I turned i nto a busy We s tern town ,
And hope d to see the gun-fighte rs a mowi ng Of men
down ;
But whi le I lo i tered on the s treet to s e e blood by
the fl a g on,
I fell b efore a g ree n- g ood s man and then a devil
wa go n
SO i n
-
.
Fo r Weste rn life ai n t wi ld and wool ly now ;
Ther e i s no daily gunpowder powwow ;
There ar e bunco game s g alore
And the cha ufie ur holds the floor
’
B ut West ern lif e ain t wild and wooll y now !
’
WE STWARD HO !
H e ard a hors e -wra ng l er na m ed Si ng l e ton s i ng this on
De l a wa re , a t poi nt of the G uad al upe M ounta ins
.
I love not Colora d o
Where the faro table grows,
And down the d esp erado
Th e rippling B ourbo n flows ;
Nor s eek I fai r M ontana
Of bow i e- lun ging fam e ;
Th e pi stol ring of fa i r Wyoming
I leave to noble r gam e
.
Swe et poke r haunte d Kansas
In vain allure s the ey e ;
The Nevada rough has cha r ms enough ,
Y et its blandi shm e nts I fly
.
1
SO NGS OF THE CO WB OYS
62
Shall Ar i zona woo me
Where the me ek Apache hi de s ?
Or New M exi co wher e na t i ve s grow
Wi th arrow proof i ns i de s ?
-
Nay , ti s where the g r i zzli e s w a nde r
And the lo nely di gg ers roam ,
And the gr i m Chi n e s e from the squatte r flees ,
’
That I ll make my h umble hom e
’
.
’
I ll chase th e wi ld tarantula
’
And the fierce coyote I l l dar e ,
’
And the locu s t gr i m , I ll battl e hi m ,
In hi s nati ve wi ldwood la i r
.
Or I
An d
And
An d
’
ll seek the gulch de s erted ,
dre a m of the wi l d re d m an,
’
I ll bui ld a cot on a corner l ot
get ri ch as soon a s I can
.
’
WHAT S BEC O ME OF THE PUN CHERS ?
By N
.
Howar d
Tho rp
’
What s b ecome of the punchers
We rod e wi th long a g o
The hundred s a nd hundre ds of cowboys
We all of us use d to know ?
Sure , some wer e killed by li ghtni ng,
Some when the cattle run,
O ther s were killed by hors e s ,
And some with the old six- gun
.
1
64
SO NGS OF THE C OWBOYS
Buil di ng b i g loop s we calle d blockers ,
Spi nni ng the rope i n the ai r,
N ever a ce nt i n our pocket s ,
But what di d a cow puncher care ?
-
I m ti re d of r i di ng thi s tr ai l , boy s ,
D ead t i red of r i d i ng alone
’
B li eve I ll head old Butto n for Texas ,
Towar ds my Ol d Palo Pinto home !
’
’
WHEN B OB G OT THR OWED
Au thor
by
u nkno wn H e ard i t s u ng
a punche r nam ed Li vi ngs ton
.
i n Ari z o na
at
.
That ti me when B ob got thr owe d
I thoug ht I sur e would bust ;
’
I li ke d to die d a l afli n
TO s e e hi m chewi ng du s t
-
.
H e crawled on that pi nto b r o nc
And hi t hi m wi th a quirt ,
The ne x t thi ng that he knew
’
H e was w al l e ri n i n the dirt
.
Ye s , i t mi g ht
’
’
ki lle d hi m ,
I heard the hard g round pop ,
But to se e i f he w a s i nj ure d
’
You b et I d i d n t stop
a
.
I je s t rolled on the gr ound
And began to ki ck a nd y ell
It li ked to ti ckled me to death
To se e how ha r d he fell
.
H ach i ta
’
T war n t more
’
than a we ek ago
That I mys elf g ot thr owed ;
But that was from a meaner hor s e
Than Ol d Bob ever rode
.
’
D you reckon B ob looked sad and said
“
’
”
I hOp e that you ain t hurt ?
Naw ; he just laugh ed and laughed
’
To s ee me chewi n di rt;
’
I ve b een p ra yi n ever s i nc e
For hi s hor s e to tur n hi s pack,
’
’ ’
And whe n he d one i t I d a laughed
If i t had broke hi s back
’
.
’
So I was still a howli n
When B ob he g ot up lame ;
He s een hi s hor s e h a d run clear Off,
And so for me he cam e
-
.
He fir s t chucked s an d i nto my eye s ,
Wi th a rock he rub b e d my he ad ,
The n he twi s ted both my arm s
”
Now , g o fetch that ho s s , he s ai d
.
I went and fetched hi m back ,
’
But I w a s fe eli n good a ll d a y ;
For I s ur e enoug h d o love to s e e
A fellow get thr owed that way
SO
.
66
1
SONGS OF THE C OWBOYS
WHO SE OLD C OW ?
By N
Wri tten a t Ros we ll
.
Howar d Tho rp
x i co
1 899 Ad d was one of
the es t cow - a nd s on e s R i ver E ver y
y kne w hi m
W e n he g ot m a rrie e
cow-m a n w n e
to gi ve hi m
res e nt, no one kn wi ng w
s e nt
t the
er m a n
”
hi m ,
as r n
es w ere fa r
r
H e re e i ve ni ne ee n
s t ves a nd r ng es for we
i ng res e n s T is s ng w as i n
my
k
bl is e i n 1 908
y rig te
p
h
o
b
cop
h
,
New M
e
P co
d ach
o
ha
a ch
apa t
a
dd p
h d boo pu h d
,
.
.
.
bod
a t d
a
o th
had
c
d
t
t
h o
.
.
.
the end of th e round-up the la s t day Of
J une ,
’
0 1 may b e July , I don t just rememb er ,
’
Or i t mi ght have b een A ugust , t was sometime
’
T was
a g o)
’
Or per haps
t was
’
the fir st of Septemb e r
.
!
Anyhow , t was th e round up we had at
’
O n the li g htni ng rod s ran g e ne a r Cayo ;
There was s ome twenty wagons more
ca mpe d about
On the temporal in the cafion
-
.
’
Fi r s t night we d no cattle , so we onl y stood g uar d
O n the hor s es , somewhere a b out two hun d re d he ad ;
So we s i de—
li ned and hopple d , we bell ed an d we
stak ed ,
Loosed our hot r oll s and fell i nto b ed
.
N e x t mo rning bout daybreak we s tar ted our work ;
Our hor s es li ke pos sum s , felt fine ,
“
”
’
Each one tendi n ki tten, no ne tryi ng to Shi rk
So the r ound up g ot on in good time
’
,
,
-
.
1
68
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
’
’
She s g ot 0 Block an Li ghtni n
’
N i ne Forty Six an A B ar Eleven,
’
Rafter Cros s an de double pr od ,
’
Terrapin an Ninety- S ev en ;
’
“
Half Cir cl e A an Diamond D ,
’
Four Cro s s L an Thr e e P Z ;
B W I , B ar X V V,
’
B ar N Cros s an A L C
’
.
So , if none 0 you p unche rs claims di s cow,
’
’
’
Mr Stock Soc i ati on need n t get l a rm e d ,
So ol d nigg er Add , ju s t brand her now ,
’
For one mor e brand o r les s won t do no harm
’
.
”
.
WINDY BILL
Su ng firs t to m e by John Coll i er, Com udas M ountain,
N e w M ex i co , Jul y , 1 899 Appe a re d fi rs t i n m y pre vi o us
copy rig h te d boo k
.
.
Windy B i ll w a s a Texas man ,
And he coul d rope , you bet ;
’
Talk of the steer he coul d n t ti e down
’
Had n t s orter b een born y et ;
The boy s they knew of an Ol d black stee r,
A so rt of an Ol d outla w ,
Who ran down i n the bottom
Jus t a t the foot of the dr aw
.
Thi s s lim b l ack s te er had s too d hi s gr ound
Wi th punchers from everywhere ;
The b oy s they bet B i ll two to one
’
H e could n t qui te g e t there
.
So B i l l broug ht up hi s Ol d cow-hors e
Hi s wether s an d b a ck were s ore
Pr epared to tackle thi s old b lack stee r
Who ra n down i n the dr aw
.
Wi th hi s graz i n b i ts and s and- stacked tr ee ,
H i s ch ap s a n d taps to boot ,
H i s Ol d ma g uey t i e d hard an d fa s t ,
Went out to tackle the b rute
B i ll sorter s a untere d a roun d hi m fir s t ;
The steer b e g a n to paw ,
Poked up hi s tai l hi g h rn the air ,
And li t down i n the draw
’
‘
.
.
The Ol d cow-hors e fl ew at hi m
’
’
Li ke he d b een e ati n corn,
An d B i ll he landed hi s old maguey
Ar ound old blacki e s horn s
The Ol d- ti me hor s e he stopped dead sti ll ;
The ci nche s broke li ke s tr aw ;
Both the s and- stacked tr e e and old m a guey ,
Went drifti n down the dr aw
’
.
-
’
.
B i ll landed in a bi g r ock pile ;
H i s h a nd s and f a ce were s cratched ;
’
H e lowed he al w ay s coul d ti e a s tee r
’
But g ue s s ed he d found hi s match
Pai d up hi s bet like a li ttle man ,
W i thout a bi t of jaw ,
And said ol d blacki e w a s the bos s
Of all down i n the dr aw
-
.
.
There s a mor al to my s o ng, boys ,
Whi ch I hope you can s ee ;
’
1
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
70
Wheneve r you st art to tackl e a steer
N ever ti e har d your m a guey
Put on your da l e b uel ta s ,
’
Cordin to C a lifo rnia law,
And you will never see your Ol d rim fire s
’
Drifti n down the dr aw
.
’
-
.
WO MEN O UTLAWS
By
N Ho wa rd
.
Th orp
’
There s a touch of human pathos ,
A glamour of the West,
Ro und the name s of women outlaws
Who have now gone to the i r rest
Bronco Sue , B elle Star , and Shudders ,
Pike Kate , and Altar D oane ,
Calamity Jane , S i s te r Cumm i ngs ,
And the Ros e of Cimmar o n
.
You v e all oft h ear d the s aying,
“
”
I d go to Hell fo r you !
’
’
About thes e women outlaw s
That saying was too tru e
.
Each left he r home and dear one
For the man she loved the b est ,
Clos e by hi s si de on many a wild ride
Thr ough the mountai ns of the West
.
They ve play e d their pa rt s in Western Drama ,
O n the gr eat unscree ned Western s ta g e ,
Where the mo untai n s were their platfo rm ,
Their stag e- setting r ocks and s a ge
’
.
1
72
SO NGS OF THE COWBOYS
We asked i f he! had b een to b r eakfa s t ; he had n t
had a smear ;
So w e Opened up the chuck- box and bade him have
hi s Share
He took a cup of coffe e and some b i scuits and some
b ean s ,
And then b egan to talk and tel l about fore i gn kings
and queens ,
’
.
About the Spani sh War and fighti ng on the seas
With guns as big as steers and ramro d s b i g as
tr ees ,
And about Ol d Paul Jones , a mean-fighti ng son of a
gun,
Who was the gr i tti est cus s that ever pulled a gun
.
Such an educated feller , hi s thoughts just came in
herd s ,
H e astoni s hed all them cowboys with them jaw
breaki ng words
He jus t kept on talki ng t i ll he made the boys all s i ck,
And they b e g an to look around just how to play
a tr i ck
.
.
H e said he had lo s t hi s job upon the Santa Fe
And was g oi ng across the plai ns to str i ke the 7-D
’
H e did n t say how come i t, some tr ouble wi th the
boss ,
’
But sai d he d li ke to borrow a nic e fat sad dle hoss
.
.
’
Thi s tickled all the boys to death ; they laug hed way
down i n the i r sle eve s ,
W e wi ll le nd you a hors e just as fr esh and fat a s
”
you pleas e
.
THE ZEBRA DU N
1
73
Sho rty gr abb ed a lariat and roped the Z ebra Dun
And turned him ove r to th e strange r a nd waited
for the fun
.
Old Dunny was a r ocky outlaw that had gr own so
awful w i ld
That he coul d paw the whi te out of the moon
eve ry j um p for a mi le
’
—
Old D unny stood ri ght still
as if he di d n t
know
Until he was saddled and r eady for to go
.
.
When the strang er hi t the saddle , Old Dunny quit
the earth ,
And tr aveled r i ght str ai g ht up fo r all that he was
worth
A-p i tchi ng and a —
squeali ng , a- havi ng wall- eyed
fits
Hi s hind feet perpendicular , hi s front o nes in the
bits
.
,
.
We could s ee the tops Of the mountains unde r
Dunny every jump ,
But the s tranger he was g rowed ther e just like
’
the camel s hump ;
The str anger s a t upon hi m and curled hi s black
mustache ,
Ju s t like a summe r boarder waiti ng fo r hi s hash
.
H e thumped hi m i n the Shoulders and spurred
hi m when he whi rled
To show them fl unky punchers that h e wa s th e wolf
of the world
,
.
1
74
SO NGS OF TH E C OWBOYS
When the str ang er had d i s mounted o nce more upon
the g r ound ,
We knew he w a s a thoro ughbred and not a gent
fr om town ;
The bo s s , who was s tan di ng round watchi ng of the
Show ,
Walked r i g ht up to the str an g er and told hi m h e
’
n ee d n t g o,
If you can us e the las s o like you r ode old Zebra
Dun ,
’
You are the man I ve b een looking for ever s i nc e
”
the y ear one
.
Oh , he could twi rl th e lariat , and he did n t do it
s low ;
He could catch them fo r e fee t ni ne out of ten fo r
any ki nd of doug h
’
’
There s one thin g and a shore thi ng I ve learned
’
Si nc e I ve b een born ,
’
That every educa t e d fell er ain t a plumb greenhorn
’
.
.
G LO S S ARY
A cowp unch er
Block er
A l arg e loop m ad e wi th a rop e
Bronco
An u nt ame d hor s e
Broo m y b room tai ls Rang e mares
B uck aroo
A cowp unch er
Caball ada
A b unch of hors es
A rope
Cab re s to
Chap s chap arreras Le ath er leggi ns
C incha
A g i rth for s addle
Corral
A p en or enclo s ure
Cri nolina
Hoop s ki rt An expres s i on us ed
to d e s cri b e s pi nning a rope
Cuarta
A wh ip
D ale vuelta
Us e d i n g i vi ng turns of rope
aro und s addl e horn
Freno
A b ri dle
G ra z i n b i ts
A s a adi e or eas y curb
A hal t er
Jaquim a
Kack
A s addle
La s s o
A loo p or to c atch
Lat ig o
A s t rap fro m cinch to s addle
M ag u ey
A M e xi can catch rop e
M anada
A b unc h of mare s
M a veri ck
An u nb rande d ani mal
M e s tefio
A wil d hors e
M o ntur a
A s addle
M orral
A fee d b a g
M u s tang
A wil d hors e
O utl aw
A hors e whi ch has b een spoiled in
b re aki ng
B a qu ero
!v aqu ero )
’
,
'
,
-
.
,
GLO SSARY
A rope
A bunch o f
Rod !
o
a tap aderas
a
V aq u ero
T ps,
T rp
Wa ddl e
Wrangl er
s
addle hors es or relay
o f hors e s
A round up
An unb rande d calf
S ti rrup cov eri ng s
A canv as b ed s h eet
A Oowp u nch er
A cowp unch er
Rang e m are s
A m a n who looks after and o utfits
s addle hors es
-
IN DE!
OF FIR ST LIN E S
A cowboy s life i s a dreary , dre ary li fe , 6 1
A Texas cowb oy l ay down on a barro om floor, 79
Al l day long on the prai ri e s I ri d e , 4
An anci ent lo ng -ho rne d bovi ne , 88
As I wal k e d ou t in the s treets o f Lare d o , 4 1
As I walk e d out one morni ng for ple a s ure , 70
At mi dni g ht , when the cattle are s leeping , 46
’
B u s ti n
down the canyon
’
,
6
Come , all of you people, I pray you dr aw near , 1
Come, all yo u jolly cowb oys that follow the b ronco s teer,
53
Com e ,
yo u melancholy folk s , wherever you may b e,
all
1 21
C ome al l you Ol d cow p unchers a s to ry I will tell 99
Come all you Ol d timers and li s ten to my s ong 84
C om e all yo u young waddi es I ll s ing you a s ong 1 3 1
Come along boys and li s ten to my tal e 1 09
Come cowboys and li s ten to my s ong 1 58
C ome on all you cow p unch ers 91
-
,
,
-
,
,
,
,
’
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
-
,
,
D addy come from Browns vi lle, 94
Dan Tayl or i s a rolli cki ng cu s s 5 7
Di d you ev er h ear o f the O L C s t eer 2 1
’
Driftin along the rim rock , Ol d Cam p Robb er and I , 1 1 6
,
,
-
Ev ery ti m e I
For thi s
G ood
-
is
b ye
,
s e e an
-
ol d p ai nt hors e, I think of yo u
the law of the We s te rn rang e,
Ol d Pai nt,
H e os -s u-i ed w i d
Im
’
a
l ea vi n
-
’
,
1 06
1 1
1 1
8
92
Cheyenne ,
me mos t ruino u s ,
,
9
82
1
He
INDEX OF FIRST LINE S
li ttle
was
en
peak ed
en
thin,
en
a
narry
nO-
a cco unt
hors e 1 42
H i s m amm y s a bu rro hi s daddy s a ho rs e 1 04
H u s h a by Lo ng H o rn your p ar ds are al l sl eep in
,
’
’
,
-
-
,
’
,
,
,
65
buckled on a b rac e Of g uns and s al li ed to Wyom ing 1 60
can tak e the wil de s t b ronc o i n the to ug h Ol d woo lly
We s t 7 1
I lov e not Col orado 1 6 1
I m a howl er from the pr ai ri e s o f the We s t ! 9
I s truck th e tr ail in s ev enty nine 69
I thoug ht one s p ri ng ju s t fo r fun 1 4 0
I took a tri p thi s s um m er to the m ark et 3
I v e b een u p on the p r ai r i e 1 1
I v e cook ed you in the s tr ong e s t gyp s um wat er 68
I v e s wum the Colorado wh ere s he r uns down clo s e t o
h ell 66
In re adin th e s tory o f e arly days i t s a cau s e of m uch
pers onal pai n 1 01
In s ev enty s ix o r th ere ab o ut s wh en th e Bl ack Hi lls
mad e th e s trik e 1 1 5
“
I t w as chu ck time on the round up and we h e ar d Ol d
”
D oug hy s hout 24
I
I
,
,
,
’
-
,
,
,
,
’
,
’
,
,
’
,
’
’
,
,
-
,
,
,
-
-
,
,
Jus t one year
ag o
to day
-
,
93
La s t ni g h t , a s I l ay on the prai ri e , 40
Li s t, all you Californi a boys , 1 8
’
’
Li ttle g al , I m not a s i ng er ; if I were I d s ing to you , 98
Li ttle Jo e , the w rangler , w il l nev er wr angle m ore , 96
’
Li ving long li v es in Sonor a , nes t e d m ongs t mountai ns
hi g h , 63
M o rn
b re aki n over de Ol e Ranch b efore d e m oon s
g o ne way 1 22
M y country t i s Of th ee 1 05
M y foot in th e s ti rru p m y p ony won t s tand 1 1 9
M y lov e i s a ri d er w il d b ronco s h e b r e ak s 1 4
M y l over i s a cowboy h e s b rav e and ki nd and true 86
’
’
’
s
’
,
’
,
,
’
,
,
,
,
’
,
,
Nev er w a s no g al lik e M olli e 4 8
Now, 0 Lord, plea s e lend me thi ne
,
e ar ,
52
1
84
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
’
T
Way out i n We s tern exa s , wh ere th e Clear Fork s
waters fl ow , 3 5
’
Way hi gh up i n the M oki one s , am ong th e mountain-top s ,
81
We ha d all mad e th e g u e s s b y the cut of hi s dre s s a n’ th e
’
tende rfoot s tyle that h e s l ung 49
’
’
We w as s etti n round the r anch hou s e
,
Thank s gi v in Da y , 1 5 1
’
We w a s tr a i li n s om e s tolen cattle , 1 5 3
We were cam p e d on the plai ns at the he ad
on
th e l a s t
‘
of the C i m ar
ron, 1
71
Ol d h ors e ,
Well ,
you v e b rou g ht me cro s s the line 1 23
’
What s b e com e o f th e punch ers , 1 62
When I th ink of the l as t gre at round up 75
Wh en the M orm ons dri fted s outh w ard 1 1 7
When th e s ap com es up throu gh th e co ttonwood root s 1 1 2
Where the Ol d Fort Sum ner B arrack s look down on th e
P e co s wi d e , 1 27
Where the P eco s Ri ver wi nds and turns in i ts journey to
’
’
,
-
,
,
,
1 26
the s ea ,
While you t e all s o fri s ky I ll s i ng a li ttle s ong , 1 56
Wi ndy Bill w a s a Texa s M an, 1 68
’
’
,
Yo u
kin b rag of ci ty cafieys an d thei r trou t from s treams
a nd lak e s , 74
You m a y call the cowb oy horned and think him hard to
tame,
34