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Cowboy Songs, and Other Frontier Ballads
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I'm pining all away."
I'll write her half a letter,
Then give the ink a tip.
If that don't bring her to her milk
I'll coolly let her rip.
They wish to know if I can cook
And what I have to eat,
And tell me should I take a cold
Be sure and soak my feet.
But when they talk of cooking
I'm mighty hard to beat,
I've made ten thousand loaves of bread
The devil couldn't eat.
I like a lazy partner
So I can take my ease,
Lay down and talk of golden home,
As happy as you please;
Without a thing to eat or drink,
Away from care and grief,—
I'm fat and sassy, ragged, too,
And tough as Spanish beef.
No matter whether rich or poor,
I'm happy as a clam.
I wish my friends at home could look
And see me as I am.
With woolen shirt and rubber boots,
In mud up to my knees,
And lice as large as chili beans
Fighting with the fleas.
I'll mine for half an ounce a day,
Perhaps a little less;
But when it comes to China pay
I cannot stand the press.
Like thousands there, I'll make a pile,
If I make one at all,
About the time the allied forces
Take Sepasterpol.
THE CALIFORNIA STAGE COMPANY
There's no respect for youth or age
On board the California stage,
But pull and haul about the seats
As bed-bugs do about the sheets.
Refrain:
They started as a thieving line
In eighteen hundred and forty-nine;
All opposition they defy,
So the people must root hog or die.
You're crowded in with Chinamen,
As fattening hogs are in a pen;
And what will more a man provoke
Is musty plug tobacco smoke.
The ladies are compelled to sit
With dresses in tobacco spit;
The gentlemen don't seem to care,
But talk on politics and swear.
The dust is deep in summer time,
The mountains very hard to climb,
And drivers often stop and yell,
"Get out, all hands, and push up hill."
The drivers, when they feel inclined,
Will have you walking on behind,
And on your shoulders lug a pole
To help them out some muddy hole.
They promise when your fare you pay,
"You'll have to walk but half the way";
Then add aside, with cunning laugh,
"You'll have to push the other half."
NEW NATIONAL ANTHEM
My country, 'tis of thee,
Land where things used to be
So cheap, we croak.
Land of the mavericks,
Land of the puncher's tricks,
Thy culture-inroad pricks
The hide of this peeler-bloke.
Some of the punchers swear
That what they eat and wear
Takes all their calves.
Others vow that they
Eat only once a day
Jerked beef and prairie hay
Washed down with tallow salves.
These salty-dogs[14 - Cowboy Dude.] but crave
To pull them out the grave
I'll write her half a letter,
Then give the ink a tip.
If that don't bring her to her milk
I'll coolly let her rip.
They wish to know if I can cook
And what I have to eat,
And tell me should I take a cold
Be sure and soak my feet.
But when they talk of cooking
I'm mighty hard to beat,
I've made ten thousand loaves of bread
The devil couldn't eat.
I like a lazy partner
So I can take my ease,
Lay down and talk of golden home,
As happy as you please;
Without a thing to eat or drink,
Away from care and grief,—
I'm fat and sassy, ragged, too,
And tough as Spanish beef.
No matter whether rich or poor,
I'm happy as a clam.
I wish my friends at home could look
And see me as I am.
With woolen shirt and rubber boots,
In mud up to my knees,
And lice as large as chili beans
Fighting with the fleas.
I'll mine for half an ounce a day,
Perhaps a little less;
But when it comes to China pay
I cannot stand the press.
Like thousands there, I'll make a pile,
If I make one at all,
About the time the allied forces
Take Sepasterpol.
THE CALIFORNIA STAGE COMPANY
There's no respect for youth or age
On board the California stage,
But pull and haul about the seats
As bed-bugs do about the sheets.
Refrain:
They started as a thieving line
In eighteen hundred and forty-nine;
All opposition they defy,
So the people must root hog or die.
You're crowded in with Chinamen,
As fattening hogs are in a pen;
And what will more a man provoke
Is musty plug tobacco smoke.
The ladies are compelled to sit
With dresses in tobacco spit;
The gentlemen don't seem to care,
But talk on politics and swear.
The dust is deep in summer time,
The mountains very hard to climb,
And drivers often stop and yell,
"Get out, all hands, and push up hill."
The drivers, when they feel inclined,
Will have you walking on behind,
And on your shoulders lug a pole
To help them out some muddy hole.
They promise when your fare you pay,
"You'll have to walk but half the way";
Then add aside, with cunning laugh,
"You'll have to push the other half."
NEW NATIONAL ANTHEM
My country, 'tis of thee,
Land where things used to be
So cheap, we croak.
Land of the mavericks,
Land of the puncher's tricks,
Thy culture-inroad pricks
The hide of this peeler-bloke.
Some of the punchers swear
That what they eat and wear
Takes all their calves.
Others vow that they
Eat only once a day
Jerked beef and prairie hay
Washed down with tallow salves.
These salty-dogs[14 - Cowboy Dude.] but crave
To pull them out the grave
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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