Cowboy Songs, and Other Frontier Ballads

Never cuts up any shine;
For the only friend I have on earth
Is this old gray mule of mine.

Now my old gray mule is dead and gone,
Gone to join the heavenly band,
With silver shoes upon his feet
To dance on the golden strand.

THE FOOLS OF FORTY-NINE

When gold was found in forty-eight the people thought 'twas gas,
And some were fools enough to think the lumps were only brass.
But soon they all were satisfied and started off to mine;
They bought their ships, came round the Horn, in the days of forty-nine.

Refrain:
Then they thought of what they'd been told
When they started after gold,—
That they never in the world would make a pile.

The people all were crazy then, they didn't know what to do.
They sold their farms for just enough to pay their passage through.
They bid their friends a long farewell, said, "Dear wife, don't you cry,
I'll send you home the yellow lumps a piano for to buy."

The poor, the old, and the rotten scows were advertised to sail
From New Orleans with passengers, but they must pump and bail.
The ships were crowded more than full, and some hung on behind,
And others dived off from the wharf and swam till they were blind.

With rusty pork and stinking beef and rotten, wormy bread!
The captains, too, that never were up as high as the main mast head!
The steerage passengers would rave and swear that they'd paid their passage
And wanted something more to eat beside bologna sausage.

They then began to cross the plain with oxen, hollowing "haw."
And steamers then began to run as far as Panama.
And there for months the people staid, that started after gold,
And some returned disgusted with the lies that had been told.

The people died on every route, they sickened and died like sheep;
And those at sea before they died were launched into the deep;
And those that died while crossing the plains fared not so well as that,
For a hole was dug and they thrown in along the miserable Platte.

The ships at last began to arrive and the people began to inquire.
They say that flour is a dollar a pound, do you think it will be any higher?
And to carry their blankets and sleep outdoors, it seemed so very droll!
Both tired and mad, without a cent, they damned the lousy hole.

A RIPPING TRIP[13 - To tune of Pop Goes the Weasel.]

You go aboard a leaky boat
And sail for San Francisco,
You've got to pump to keep her afloat,
You've got that, by jingo!
The engine soon begins to squeak,
But nary a thing to oil her;
Impossible to stop the leak,—
Rip, goes the boiler.

The captain on the promenade
Looking very savage;
Steward and the cabin maid
Fightin' 'bout the cabbage;
All about the cabin floor
Passengers lie sea-sick;
Steamer bound to go ashore,—
Rip, goes the physic.

Pork and beans they can't afford,
The second cabin passengers;
The cook has tumbled overboard
With fifty pounds of sassengers;
The engineer, a little tight,
Bragging on the Mail Line,
Finally gets into a fight,—
Rip, goes the engine.

THE HAPPY MINER

I'm a happy miner,
I love to sing and dance.
I wonder what my love would say
If she could see my pants
With canvas patches on my knees
And one upon the stern?
I'll wear them when I'm digging here
And home when I return.

Refrain:
So I get in a jovial way,
I spend my money free.
And I've got plenty!
Will you drink lager beer with me?

She writes about her poodle dog;
But never thinks to say,
"Oh, do come home, my honey dear,