The grade was mighty sloping from the ranch down to the creek And I went a-galliflutin' like a crazy lightning streak,-- Went whizzing and a-darting first this way and then that, The darned contrivance sort o' wobbling like the flying of a bat.

I pulled upon the handles, but I couldn't check it up, And I yanked and sawed and hollowed but the darned thing wouldn't stop.

Then a sort of a meachin' in my brain began to steal, That the devil held a mortgage on that gol-darned wheel.

I've a sort of dim and hazy remembrance of the stop, With the world a-goin' round and the stars all tangled up; Then there came an intermission that lasted till I found I was lying at the ranch with the boys all gathered round, And a doctor was a-sewing on the skin where it was ripped, And old Arizona whispered, "Well, old boy, I guess you're whipped,"

And I told him I was busted from sombrero down to heel, And he grinned and said, "You ought to see that gol-darned wheel."

BONNIE BLACK BESS

When fortune's blind G.o.ddess Had fled my abode, And friends proved unfaithful, I took to the road; To plunder the wealthy And relieve my distress, I bought you to aid me, My Bonnie Black Bess.

No vile whip nor spur Did your sides ever gall, For none did you need, You would bound at my call; And for each act of kindness You would me caress, Thou art never unfaithful, My Bonnie Black Bess.

When dark, sable midnight Her mantle had thrown O'er the bright face of nature, How oft we have gone To the famed Houndslow heath, Though an unwelcome guest To the minions of fortune, My Bonnie Black Bess.

How silent you stood When the carriage I stopped, The gold and the jewels Its inmates would drop.

No poor man I plundered Nor e'er did oppress The widows or orphans, My Bonnie Black Bess.

When Argus-eyed justice Did me hot pursue, From Yorktown to London Like lightning we flew.

No toll bars could stop you, The waters did breast, And in twelve hours we made it, My Bonnie Black Bess.

But hate darkens o'er me, Despair is my lot, And the law does pursue me For the many I've shot; To save me, poor brute, Thou hast done thy best, Thou art worn out and weary, My Bonnie Black Bess.

Hark! they never shall have A beast like thee; So n.o.ble and gentle And brave, thou must die, My dumb friend, Though it does me distress,-- There! There! I have shot thee, My Bonnie Black Bess.

In after years When I am dead and gone, This story will be handed From father to son; My fate some will pity, And some will confess 'Twas through kindness I killed thee, My Bonnie Black Bess.

No one can e'er say That ingrat.i.tude dwelt In the bosom of Turpin,-- 'Twas a vice never felt.

I will die like a man And soon be at rest; Now, farewell forever, My Bonnie Black Bess.

THE LAST LONGHORN

An ancient long-horned bovine Lay dying by the river; There was lack of vegetation And the cold winds made him shiver; A cowboy sat beside him With sadness in his face.

To see his final pa.s.sing,-- This last of a n.o.ble race.

The ancient eunuch struggled And raised his shaking head, Saying, "I care not to linger When all my friends are dead.

These Jerseys and these Holsteins, They are no friends of mine; They belong to the n.o.bility Who live across the brine.

"Tell the Durhams and the Herefords When they come a-grazing round, And see me lying stark and stiff Upon the frozen ground, I don't want them to bellow When they see that I am dead, For I was born in Texas Near the river that is Red.

"Tell the cayotes, when they come at night A-hunting for their prey, They might as well go further, For they'll find it will not pay.

If they attempt to eat me, They very soon will see That my bones and hide are petrified,-- They'll find no beef on me.

"I remember back in the seventies, Full many summers past, There was gra.s.s and water plenty, But it was too good to last.

I little dreamed what would happen Some twenty summers hence, When the nester came with his wife, his kids, His dogs, and his barbed-wire fence."

His voice sank to a murmur, His breath was short and quick; The cowboy tried to skin him When he saw he couldn't kick; He rubbed his knife upon his boot Until he made it shine, But he never skinned old longhorn, Caze he couldn't cut his rine.

And the cowboy riz up sadly And mounted his cayuse, Saying, "The time has come when longhorns And their cowboys are no use!"

And while gazing sadly backward Upon the dead bovine, His bronc stepped in a dog-hole And fell and broke his spine.

The cowboys and the longhorns Who partnered in eighty-four Have gone to their last round-up Over on the other sh.o.r.e; They answered well their purpose, But their glory must fade and go, Because men say there's better things In the modern cattle show.

A PRISONER FOR LIFE

Fare you well, green fields, Soft meadows, adieu!

Rocks and mountains, I depart from you; Nevermore shall my eyes By your beauties be blest, Nevermore shall you soothe My sad bosom to rest.

Farewell, little birdies, That fly in the sky, You fly all day long And sing your troubles by; I am doomed to this cell, I heave a deep sigh; My heart sinks within me, In anguish I die.

Fare you well, little fishes, That glides through the sea, Your life's all sunshine, All light, and all glee; Nevermore shall I watch Your skill in the wave, I'll depart from all friends This side of the grave.

What would I give Such freedom to share, To roam at my ease And breathe the fresh air; I would roam through the cities, Through village and dell, But I never would return To my cold prison cell.

What's life without liberty?

I ofttimes have said, Of a poor troubled mind That's always in dread; No sun, moon, and stars Can on me now shine, No change in my danger From daylight till dawn.

Fare you well, kind friends, I am willing to own, Such a wild outcast Never was known; I'm the downfall of my family, My children, my wife; G.o.d pity and pardon The poor prisoner for life.

A Prisoner For Life (Mus. Not.)

Fare you well green fields,... Soft mead-ows, a-dieu!

Rocks and moun-tains I de-part ... from you, Nev-er-more shall my eyes by your beau-ties be fed, Nev-er more shall you soothe my poor bo-som to rest.

THE WARS OF GERMANY

There was a wealthy merchant, In London he did dwell, He had an only daughter, The truth to you I'll tell.

Sing I am left alone, Sing I am left alone.

She was courted by a lord Of very high degree, She was courted by a sailor Jack Just from the wars of Germany.

Sing I am left alone, Sing I am left alone.