at the ranch an’ knock my heart plumb out o’ gear.
I wish to God she’d talk to me in a way to fit the case—
In words t’d have a tendency to hold me in my place—
Instead o’ bein’ sociable an’ actin’ like she thought
Us cowboys good as city gents in clothes that’s tailor bought.
If I would hint to her o’ love, she’d hit that love a jar
An’ laugh at sich a tough as me a-tryin’ to rope a star;
She’d give them fluffy skirts a flirt, an’ skate out o’ my sight,
An’ leave me paralyzed—an’ it’d serve me cussed right.
I wish she’d pack her pile o’ trunks an’ hit the city track,
An’ maybe I’d recover from this violent attack;
An’ in the future know enough to watch my feedin’ ground
An’ shun the loco weed o’ love when there’s an angel round.
The Chase
Here’s a moccasin track in the drifts,
It’s no more than the length of my hand;
An’ her instep—just see how it lifts!
If that ain’t the best in the land!
For the maid ran as free as the wind
And her foot was as light as the snow.
Why, as sure as I follow, I’ll find
Me a kiss where her red blushes grow.
Here’s two small little feet and a skirt;
Here’s a soft little heart all aglow.
See me trail down the dear little flirt
By the sign that she left in the snow!
Did she run? ’Twas a sign to make haste.
An’ why bless her! I’m sure she won’t mind.
If she’s got any kisses to waste,
Why, she knew that a man was behind.
Did she run ’cause she’s only afraid?
No! For sure ’twas to set me the pace!
An’ I’ll follow in love with a maid
When I ain’t had a sight of her face.
There she is! An’ I knew she was near.
Will she pay me a kiss to be free?
Will she hate? Will she love? Will she fear?
Why, the darling! She’s waiting to see!
Riding Song
Let us ride together—
Blowing mane and hair,
Careless of the weather,
Miles ahead of care,
Ring of hoof and snaffle,
Swing of waist and hip,
Trotting down the twisted road
With the world let slip.
Let us laugh together—
Merry as of old
To the creak of leather
And the morning cold.
Break into a canter;
Shout to bank and tree;
Rocking down the waking trail,
Steady hand and knee.
Take the life of cities—
Here’s the life for me.
’Twere a thousand pities
Not to gallop free.
So we’ll ride together,
Comrade, you and I,
Careless of the weather,
Letting care go by.
Our Little Cowgirl
Thar she goes a-lopin’, stranger,
Khaki-gowned, with flyin’ hair,
Talk about your classy ridin’—
Wal, you’re gettin’ it right thar.
Jest a kid, but lemme tell you
When she warms a saddle seat
On that outlaw bronc a-straddle
She is one that can’t be beat!
Every buckaroo that sees her
Tearin’ cross the range astride
Has some mighty jealous feelin’s
Wishin’ he knowed how to ride.
Why, she’ll take a deep barranca
Six-foot wide and never peep;
That ’ere cayuse she’s a-forkin’
Sure’s somethin’ on the leap.
Ride? Why, she can cut a critter
From the herd as neat as pie,
Read a brand out on the ranges
Just as well as you or I.
Ain’t much yet with the riata,
But you give her a few years
And no puncher with the outfit
Will beat her a-ropin’ steers.
Proud o’ her? Say, lemme tell you,
She’s the queen of all the range;
Got a grip upon our heart-strings
Mighty strong, but that ain’t strange;
’Cause she loves the lowin’ cattle,
Loves the hills and open air,
Dusty trails on blossomed canons
God has strung around out here.
Hoof-beats poundin’ down the mesa,
Chicken-time in lively tune,
Jest below the trail to Keeber’s—
Wait, you’ll see her pretty soon.
You kin bet I know that ridin’—
Now she’s toppin’ yonder swell.
Thar she is; that’s her a-smilin’
At the bars of the corral.
I Want My Time
I’m night guard all alone tonight,
Dead homesick, lonely, tired and blue;
And none but you can make it right;
My heart is hungry, Girl, for you.
I’ve longed all night to hug you, Dear;
To speak my love I’m at a loss.
But just as soon as daylight’s here
I’m goin’ straight to see the boss.
“How long’s the round-up goin’ to run?
Another week, or maybe three?
Give me my time, then, I am done.
No, I’m not sick. Three weeks? Oh gee!”
I know, though, when I’ve had enough.
I will not work—darned if I will.
I’m goin’ to quit, and that’s no bluff.
Say, gimme some tobacco, Bill.
Who’s That Calling So Sweet?
The herds are gathered in from plain and hill,
Who’s that a-calling?
The boys are sleeping and the boys are still,
Who’s that a-calling?
’Twas the wind a-sighing in the prairie grass,
Who’s that a-calling?
Or wild birds singing overhead as they pass.
Who’s that a-calling?
Making heart and pulse to beat.
No, no, it wasn’t earthly sound I heard,
Who’s that a-calling?
It was no sigh of breeze or song of bird,
Who’s that a-calling?
For the tone I heard was softer far than these,
that a-calling?
’Twas loved ones’ voices from far off across the seas
Song of the Cattle Trail
The dust hangs thick upon the trail
And the horns and the hoofs are clashing,
While off at the side through the chaparral
The men and the strays go crashing;
But in right good cheer the cowboy sings,
For the work of the fall is ending,
And then it’s ride for the old home ranch
Where a maid love’s light is tending.
Then it’s crack! crack! crack!
On the beef steer’s back,
And it’s run, you slow-foot devil;
For I’m soon to turn back where through the black
Love’s lamp gleams along the level.
He’s trailed them far o’er the trackless range,
Has this knight of the saddle leather;
He has risked his life in the mad stampede,
And has breasted all kinds of weather.
But now is the end of the trail in sight,
And the hours on wings are sliding;
For it’s back to the home and the only girl
When the foreman OK’s the option.
Then it’s quirt! quirt! quirt!
And it’s run or git hurt,
You hang-back, bawling critter.
For a man who’s in love with a turtle dove
Ain’t got no time to fritter.
A Cowboy’s Son
Whar y’u from, little stranger, little boy?
Y’u was ridin’ a cloud on that star-strewn plain,
But y’u fell from the skies like a drop of
