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Cowboy Songs, and Other Frontier Ballads
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O say, little dogies, when you goin' to lay down
And quit this forever siftin' around?
My limbs are weary, my seat is sore;
Oh, lay down, dogies, like you've laid before,—
Lay down, little dogies, lay down.
Hi-oo, hi-oo, oo-oo.
Oh, lay still, dogies, since you have laid down,
Stretch away out on the big open ground;
Snore loud, little dogies, and drown the wild sound
That will all go away when the day rolls round,—
Lay still, little dogies, lay still.
Hi-oo, hi-oo, oo-oo.
. . . . . .
TAIL PIECE
Oh, the cow-puncher loves the whistle of his rope,
As he races over the plains;
And the stage-driver loves the popper of his whip,
And the rattle of his concord chains;
And we'll all pray the Lord that we will be saved,
And we'll keep the golden rule;
But I'd rather be home with the girl I love
Than to monkey with this goddamn'd mule.
. . . . . . . . . . .
THE HABIT[5 - A song current in Arizona, probably written by Berton Braley. Cowboys and miners often take verses that please them and fit them to music.]
I've beat my way wherever any winds have blown,
I've bummed along from Portland down to San Antone,
From Sandy Hook to Frisco, over gulch and hill;
For once you git the habit, why, you can't keep still.
I settles down quite frequent and I says, says I,
"I'll never wander further till I comes to die."
But the wind it sorta chuckles, "Why, o' course you will,"
And shure enough I does it, cause I can't keep still.
I've seed a lot o' places where I'd like to stay,
But I gets a feelin' restless and I'm on my way.
I was never meant for settin' on my own door sill,
And once you git the habit, why, you can't keep still.
I've been in rich men's houses and I've been in jail,
But when it's time for leavin', I jes hits the trail;
I'm a human bird of passage, and the song I trill,
Is, "Once you git the habit, why, you can't keep still."
The sun is sorta coaxin' and the road is clear
And the wind is singin' ballads that I got to hear.
It ain't no use to argue when you feel the thrill;
For once you git the habit, why, you can't keep still.
OLD PAINT[6 - These verses are used in many parts of the West as a dance song. Sung to waltz music the song takes the place of "Home, Sweet Home" at the conclusion of a cowboy ball. The "fiddle" is silenced and the entire company sing as they dance.]
REFRAIN:
Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne,
Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne,—
My foot in the stirrup, my pony won't stand;
Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.
I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne, I'm off for Montan';
Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.
I'm a ridin' Old Paint, I'm a-leadin' old Fan;
Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.
With my feet in the stirrups, my bridle in my hand;
Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.
Old Paint's a good pony, he paces when he can;
Goodbye, little Annie, I'm off for Cheyenne.
Oh, hitch up your horses and feed 'em some hay,
And seat yourself by me so long as you stay.
My horses ain't hungry, they'll not eat your hay;
My wagon is loaded and rolling away.
My foot in my stirrup, my reins in my hand;
Good-morning, young lady, my horses won't stand.
Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.
Goodbye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.
DOWN SOUTH ON THE RIO GRANDE
From way down south on the Rio Grande,
Roll on steers for the Post Oak Sand,—
Way down south in Dixie, Oh, boys, Ho.
You'd laugh fur to see that fellow a-straddle
Of a mustang mare on a raw-hide saddle,—
Way down south in Dixie, Oh, boys, Ho.
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Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
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