The sun was sinking in the west And fell with lingering ray Through the branches of a forest Where a wounded ranger lay; Beneath the shade of a palmetto And the sunset silvery sky, Far away from his home in Texas They laid him down to die.

A group had gathered round him, His comrades in the fight, A tear rolled down each manly cheek As he bid a last good-night.

One tried and true companion Was kneeling by his side, To stop his life-blood flowing, But alas, in vain he tried.

When to stop the life-blood flowing He found 'twas all in vain, The tears rolled down each man's cheek Like light showers of rain.

Up spoke the n.o.ble ranger, "Boys, weep no more for me, I am crossing the deep waters To a country that is free.

"Draw closer to me, comrades, And listen to what I say, I am going to tell a story While my spirit hastens away.

Way back in Northwest Texas, That good old Lone Star state, There is one that for my coming With a weary heart will wait.

"A fair young girl, my sister, My only joy, my pride, She was my friend from boyhood, I had no one left beside.

I have loved her as a brother, And with a father's care I have strove from grief and sorrov Her gentle heart to spare.

"My mother, she lies sleeping Beneath the church-yard sod, And many a day has pa.s.sed away Since her spirit fled to G.o.d.

My father, he lies sleeping Beneath the deep blue sea, I have no other kindred, There are none but Nell and me.

"But our country was invaded And they called for volunteers; She threw her arms around me, Then burst into tears, Saying, 'Go, my darling brother, Drive those traitors from our sh.o.r.e, My heart may need your presence, But our country needs you more.'

"It is true I love my country, For her I gave my all.

If it hadn't been for my sister, I would be content to fall.

I am dying, comrades, dying, She will never see me more, But in vain she'll wait my coming By our little cabin door.

"Comrades, gather closer And listen to my dying prayer.

Who will be to her as a brother, And shield her with a brother's care?"

Up spake the n.o.ble rangers, They answered one and all, "We will be to her as brothers Till the last one does fall."

One glad smile of pleasure O'er the ranger's face was spread; One dark, convulsive shadow, And the ranger boy was dead.

Far from his darling sister We laid him down to rest With his saddle for a pillow And his gun across his breast.

The Dying Ranger (Mus. Not.)

The sun was sink-ing in the west, And fell with lin-g'ring ray Through the branches of the for-est,... Where a wound-ed ran-ger lay; 'Neath the shade of a pal-met-to ... And the sun-set sil-v'ry sky, Far a-way from his home in Tex-as,... They laid him down to die.

THE FAIR FANNIE MOORE

Yonder stands a cottage, All deserted and alone, Its paths are neglected, With gra.s.s overgrown; Go in and you will see Some dark stains on the floor,-- Alas! it is the blood Of fair Fannie Moore.

To Fannie, so blooming, Two lovers they came; One offered young Fannie His wealth and his name; But neither his money Nor pride could secure A place in the heart Of fair Fannie Moore.

The first was young Randell, So bold and so proud, Who to the fair Fannie His haughty head bowed; But his wealth and his house Both failed to allure The heart from the bosom Of fair Fannie Moore.

The next was young Henry, Of lowest degree.

He won her fond love And enraptured was he; And then at the altar He quick did secure The hand with the heart Of the fair Fannie Moore.

As she was alone In her cottage one day, When business had called Her fond husband away, Young Randell, the haughty, Came in at the door And clasped in his arms The fair Fannie Moore.

"O Fannie, O Fannie, Reflect on your fate And accept of my offer Before it's too late; For one thing to-night I am bound to secure,-- 'Tis the love or the life Of the fair Fannie Moore."

"Spare me, Oh, spare me!"

The young Fannie cries, While the tears swiftly flow From her beautiful eyes; "Oh, no!" cries young Randell, "Go home to your rest,"

And he buried his knife In her snowy white breast.

So Fannie, so blooming, In her bright beauty died; Young Randell, the haughty, Was taken and tried; At length he was hung On a tree at the door, For shedding the blood Of the fair Fannie Moore.

Young Henry, the shepherd, Distracted and wild, Did wander away From his own native isle.

Till at length, claimed by death, He was brought to this sh.o.r.e And laid by the side Of the fair Fannie Moore.

h.e.l.l IN TEXAS

The devil, we're told, in h.e.l.l was chained, And a thousand years he there remained; He never complained nor did he groan, But determined to start a h.e.l.l of his own, Where he could torment the souls of men Without being chained in a prison pen.

So he asked the Lord if he had on hand Anything left when he made the land.

The Lord said, "Yes, I had plenty on hand, But I left it down on the Rio Grande; The fact is, old boy, the stuff is so poor I don't think you could use it in h.e.l.l anymore."

But the devil went down to look at the truck, And said if it came as a gift he was stuck; For after examining it carefully and well He concluded the place was too dry for h.e.l.l.

So, in order to get it off his hands, The Lord promised the devil to water the lands; For he had some water, or rather some dregs, A regular cathartic that smelled like bad eggs.

Hence the deal was closed and the deed was given And the Lord went back to his home in heaven.

And the devil then said, "I have all that is needed To make a good h.e.l.l," and hence he succeeded.

He began to put thorns in all of the trees, And mixed up the sand with millions of fleas; And scattered tarantulas along all the roads; Put thorns on the cactus and horns on the toads.

He lengthened the horns of the Texas steers, And put an addition on the rabbit's ears; He put a little devil in the broncho steed, And poisoned the feet of the centipede.

The rattlesnake bites you, the scorpion stings, The mosquito delights you with buzzing wings; The sand-burrs prevail and so do the ants, And those who sit down need half-soles on their pants.

The devil then said that throughout the land He'd managed to keep up the devil's own brand, And all would be mavericks unless they bore The marks of scratches and bites and thorns by the score.

The heat in the summer is a hundred and ten, Too hot for the devil and too hot for men.

The wild boar roams through the black chaparral,-- It's a h.e.l.l of a place he has for a h.e.l.l.

The red pepper grows on the banks of the brook; The Mexicans use it in all that they cook.

Just dine with a Greaser and then you will shout, "I've h.e.l.l on the inside as well as the out!"

BY MARKENTURA'S FLOWERY MARGE

By Markentura's flowery marge the Red Chief's wigwam stood, Before the white man's rifle rang, loud echoing through the wood; The tommy-hawk and scalping knife together lay at rest, And peace was in the forest shade and in the red man's breast.