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Cowboy Songs, and Other Frontier Ballads
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What matter to you in your eastern land
If the raiders here should come?
No danger that you shall awake at night
To the howls of a savage band;
So muster them out, though the morning light
Find havoc on every hand.
Some dear one is sick and the horses all gone,
So we can't for a doctor send;
The outlaws were in in the light of the morn
And no Rangers here to defend.
For they've mustered them out, the brave true band,
Untiring by night and day.
The fearless scouts of this border land
Made the taxes high, they say.
Have fewer men in the capitol walls,
Fewer tongues in the war of words,
But add to the Rangers, the living wall
That keeps back the bandit hordes.
Have fewer dinners, less turtle soup,
If the taxes are too high.
There are many other and better ways
To lower them if they try.
Don't waste so much of your money
Printing speeches people don't read.
If you'd only take off what's used for that
'Twould lower the tax indeed.
Don't use so much sugar and lemons;
Cold water is just as good
For a constant drink in the summer time
And better for the blood.
But leave us the Rangers to guard us still,
Nor think that they cost too dear;
For their faithful watch over vale and hill
Gives our loved ones naught to fear.
A COW CAMP ON THE RANGE
Oh, the prairie dogs are screaming,
And the birds are on the wing,
See the heel fly chase the heifer, boys!
'Tis the first class sign of spring.
The elm wood is budding,
The earth is turning green.
See the pretty things of nature
That make life a pleasant dream!
I'm just living through the winter
To enjoy the coming change,
For there is no place so homelike
As a cow camp on the range.
The boss is smiling radiant,
Radiant as the setting sun;
For he knows he's stealing glories,
For he ain't a-cussin' none.
The cook is at the chuck-box
Whistling "Heifers in the Green,"
Making baking powder biscuits, boys,
While the pot is biling beans.
The boys untie their bedding
And unroll it on the run,
For they are in a monstrous hurry
For the supper's almost done.
"Here's your bloody wolf bait,"
Cried the cook's familiar voice
As he climbed the wagon wheel
To watch the cowboys all rejoice.
Then all thoughts were turned from reverence
To a plate of beef and beans,
As we graze on beef and biscuits
Like yearlings on the range.
To the dickens with your city
Where they herd the brainless brats,
On a range so badly crowded
There ain't room to cuss the cat.
This life is not so sumptuous,
I'm not longing for a change,
For there is no place so homelike
As a cow camp on the range.
FRECKLES. A FRAGMENT
He was little an' peaked an' thin, an' narry a no account horse,—
Least that's the way you'd describe him in case that the beast had been lost;
But, for single and double cussedness an' for double fired sin,
The horse never came out o' Texas that was half-way knee-high to him!
The first time that ever I saw him was nineteen years ago last spring;
'Twas the year we had grasshoppers, that come an' et up everything,
That a feller rode up here one evenin' an' wanted to pen over night
A small bunch of horses, he said; an' I told him I guessed 'twas all right.
Well, the feller was busted, the horses was thin, an' the grass round here kind of good,
An' he said if I'd let him hold here a few days he'd settle with me when he could.
If the raiders here should come?
No danger that you shall awake at night
To the howls of a savage band;
So muster them out, though the morning light
Find havoc on every hand.
Some dear one is sick and the horses all gone,
So we can't for a doctor send;
The outlaws were in in the light of the morn
And no Rangers here to defend.
For they've mustered them out, the brave true band,
Untiring by night and day.
The fearless scouts of this border land
Made the taxes high, they say.
Have fewer men in the capitol walls,
Fewer tongues in the war of words,
But add to the Rangers, the living wall
That keeps back the bandit hordes.
Have fewer dinners, less turtle soup,
If the taxes are too high.
There are many other and better ways
To lower them if they try.
Don't waste so much of your money
Printing speeches people don't read.
If you'd only take off what's used for that
'Twould lower the tax indeed.
Don't use so much sugar and lemons;
Cold water is just as good
For a constant drink in the summer time
And better for the blood.
But leave us the Rangers to guard us still,
Nor think that they cost too dear;
For their faithful watch over vale and hill
Gives our loved ones naught to fear.
A COW CAMP ON THE RANGE
Oh, the prairie dogs are screaming,
And the birds are on the wing,
See the heel fly chase the heifer, boys!
'Tis the first class sign of spring.
The elm wood is budding,
The earth is turning green.
See the pretty things of nature
That make life a pleasant dream!
I'm just living through the winter
To enjoy the coming change,
For there is no place so homelike
As a cow camp on the range.
The boss is smiling radiant,
Radiant as the setting sun;
For he knows he's stealing glories,
For he ain't a-cussin' none.
The cook is at the chuck-box
Whistling "Heifers in the Green,"
Making baking powder biscuits, boys,
While the pot is biling beans.
The boys untie their bedding
And unroll it on the run,
For they are in a monstrous hurry
For the supper's almost done.
"Here's your bloody wolf bait,"
Cried the cook's familiar voice
As he climbed the wagon wheel
To watch the cowboys all rejoice.
Then all thoughts were turned from reverence
To a plate of beef and beans,
As we graze on beef and biscuits
Like yearlings on the range.
To the dickens with your city
Where they herd the brainless brats,
On a range so badly crowded
There ain't room to cuss the cat.
This life is not so sumptuous,
I'm not longing for a change,
For there is no place so homelike
As a cow camp on the range.
FRECKLES. A FRAGMENT
He was little an' peaked an' thin, an' narry a no account horse,—
Least that's the way you'd describe him in case that the beast had been lost;
But, for single and double cussedness an' for double fired sin,
The horse never came out o' Texas that was half-way knee-high to him!
The first time that ever I saw him was nineteen years ago last spring;
'Twas the year we had grasshoppers, that come an' et up everything,
That a feller rode up here one evenin' an' wanted to pen over night
A small bunch of horses, he said; an' I told him I guessed 'twas all right.
Well, the feller was busted, the horses was thin, an' the grass round here kind of good,
An' he said if I'd let him hold here a few days he'd settle with me when he could.
Другие электронные книги автора Various
Последний отзыв
Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
Далее