Cowboy Songs, and Other Frontier Ballads

I used to run about, now I stay at home,
Take care of my wife and child;
Nevermore to roam, always stay at home,
Take care of my wife and child.

Half-past four the noisy cook will roar,
"Hurrah, boys! she's breaking day!"
Slowly we will rise and wipe our sleepy eyes,
The sweet, dreamy night passed away.

JIM FARROW

It's Jim Farrow and John Farrow and little Simon, too,
Have plenty of cattle where I have but few.
Marking and branding both night and day,—
It's "Keep still, boys, my boys, and you'll all get your pay."
It's up to the courthouse, the first thing they know,
Before the Grand Jury they'll have to go.
They'll ask you about ear-marks, they'll ask you about brand,
But tell them you were absent when the work was on hand.
Jim Farrow brands J.F. on the side;
The next comes Johnnie who takes the whole hide;
Little Simon, too has H. on the loin;—
All stand for Farrow but it's not good for Sime.
You ask for the mark, I don't think it's fair,
You'll find the cow's head but the ear isn't there
It's a crop and a split and a sort of a twine,—
All stand for F. but it's not good for Sime.

"Get up, my boys," Jim Farrow will say,
"And out to horse hunting before it is day."
So we get up and are out on the way
But it's damn few horses we find before day.
"Now saddle your horses and out on the peaks
To see if the heifers are out on the creeks."
We'll round 'em to-day and we'll round 'em to-morrow,
And this ends my song concerning the Farrows.

YOUNG CHARLOTTIE

Young Charlottie lived by a mountain side in a wild and lonely spot,
There was no village for miles around except her father's cot;
And yet on many a wintry night young boys would gather there,—
Her father kept a social board, and she was very fair.

One New Year's Eve as the sun went down, she cast a wistful eye
Out from the window pane as a merry sleigh went by.
At a village fifteen miles away was to be a ball that night;
Although the air was piercing cold, her heart was merry and light.

At last her laughing eye lit up as a well-known voice she heard,
And dashing in front of the door her lover's sleigh appeared.
"O daughter, dear," her mother said, "this blanket round you fold,
'Tis such a dreadful night abroad and you will catch your death of cold."

"Oh no, oh no!" young Charlottie cried, as she laughed like a gipsy queen,
"To ride in blankets muffled up, I never would be seen.
My silken coat is quite enough, you know it is lined throughout,
And there is my silken scarf to wrap my head and neck about."

Her bonnet and her gloves were on, she jumped into the sleigh,
And swiftly slid down the mountain side and over the hills away.
All muffled up so silent, five miles at last were past
When Charlie with few but shivering words, the silence broke at last.

"Such a dreadful night I never saw, my reins I can scarcely hold."
Young Charlottie then feebly said, "I am exceedingly cold."
He cracked his whip and urged his speed much faster than before,
While at least five other miles in silence had passed o'er.

Spoke Charles, "How fast the freezing ice is gathering on my brow!"
Young Charlottie then feebly said, "I'm growing warmer now."
So on they sped through the frosty air and the glittering cold starlight
Until at last the village lights and the ball-room came in sight.

They reached the door and Charles sprang out and reached his hands to her.
"Why sit you there like a monument that has no power to stir?"
He called her once, he called her twice, she answered not a word,
And then he called her once again but still she never stirred.

He took her hand in his; 'twas cold and hard as any stone.
He tore the mantle from her face while cold stars on it shone.
Then quickly to the lighted hall her lifeless form he bore;—
Young Charlottie's eyes were closed forever, her voice was heard no more.

And there he sat down by her side while bitter tears did flow,
And cried, "My own, my charming bride, you nevermore shall know."
He twined his arms around her neck and kissed her marble brow,
And his thoughts flew back to where she said, "I'm growing warmer now."

He took her back into the sleigh and quickly hurried home;
When he arrived at her father's door, oh, how her friends did mourn;
They mourned the loss of a daughter dear, while Charles wept over the gloom,
Till at last he died with the bitter grief,—now they both lie in one tomb.

THE SKEW-BALL BLACK

It was down to Red River I came,
Prepared to play a damned tough game,—
Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!