98
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
At last we got them milling and kinder quieted down,
And the extra guard back to the camp did go;
But one of them was missin’, and we all knew at a glance
’T was our little Texas stray — poor Wrangler Joe.
And the extra guard back to the camp did go;
But one of them was missin’, and we all knew at a glance
’T was our little Texas stray — poor Wrangler Joe.
Next morning just at sunup we found where Rocket fell,
Down in a washout twenty feet below;
Beneath his horse, mashed to a pulp, his spurs had rung the knell
For our little Texas stray — poor Wrangler Joe.
Down in a washout twenty feet below;
Beneath his horse, mashed to a pulp, his spurs had rung the knell
For our little Texas stray — poor Wrangler Joe.
LOVE ON THE RANGE
I got this from Doc Henderson at an Albuquerque Live Stock Association meeting.
Little gal, I’m not a singer; if I were I’d sing to you
A tale of love that sure would be a wonder;
It would beat them opry singers when they sing, “Love I’ll be true —
As true as moon and stars a-shining yonder.”
A tale of love that sure would be a wonder;
It would beat them opry singers when they sing, “Love I’ll be true —
As true as moon and stars a-shining yonder.”
My hands are big, and clumsy — I can’t pick the light guitar;
And no doubt you’ll say my lingo’s idle prattle;
But what can you expect? I’m from the Double Circle-Bar,
Where all my fingers learned was punching cattle.
And no doubt you’ll say my lingo’s idle prattle;
But what can you expect? I’m from the Double Circle-Bar,
Where all my fingers learned was punching cattle.
I know the trail blindfolded and I never knew a fear,
For I’ve followed it for years, honeysuckle;
For I’ve followed it for years, honeysuckle;
