Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Pinto, whoa!

THE GAL I LEFT BEHIND ME

I struck the trail in seventy-nine, The herd strung out behind me; As I jogged along my mind ran back For the gal I left behind me.

That sweet little gal, that true little gal, The gal I left behind me!

If ever I get off the trail And the Indians they don't find me, I'll make my way straight back again To the gal I left behind me.

That sweet little gal, that true little gal, The gal I left behind me!

The wind did blow, the rain did flow, The hail did fall and blind me; I thought of that gal, that sweet little gal, That gal I'd left behind me!

That sweet little gal, that true little gal, The gal I left behind me!

She wrote ahead to the place I said, I was always glad to find it.

She says, "I am true, when you get through Right back here you will find me."

That sweet little gal, that true little gal, The gal I left behind me!

When we sold out I took the train, I knew where I would find her; When I got back we had a smack And that was no gol-darned liar.

That sweet little gal, that true little gal, The gal I left behind me!

BILLY THE KID

Billy was a bad man And carried a big gun, He was always after Greasers And kept 'em on the run.

He shot one every morning, For to make his morning meal.

And let a white man sa.s.s him, He was sh.o.r.e to feel his steel.

He kept folks in hot water, And he stole from many a stage; And when he was full of liquor He was always in a rage.

But one day he met a man Who was a whole lot badder.

And now he's dead, And we ain't none the sadder.

THE h.e.l.l-BOUND TRAIN

A Texas cowboy lay down on a bar-room floor.

Having drunk so much he could drink no more; So he fell asleep with a troubled brain To dream that he rode on a h.e.l.l-bound train.

The engine with murderous blood was damp And was brilliantly lit with a brimstone lamp; An imp, for fuel, was shoveling bones, While the furnace rang with a thousand groans.

The boiler was filled with lager beer And the devil himself was the engineer; The pa.s.sengers were a most motley crew,-- Church member, atheist, Gentile, and Jew,

Rich men in broadcloth, beggars in rags, Handsome young ladies, and withered old hags, Yellow and black men, red, brown, and white.

All chained together,--O G.o.d, what a sight!

While the train rushed on at an awful pace, The sulphurous fumes scorched their hands and face; Wider and wider the country grew, As faster and faster the engine flew.

Louder and louder the thunder crashed And brighter and brighter the lightning flashed; Hotter and hotter the air became Till the clothes were burnt from each quivering frame.

And out of the distance there arose a yell, "Ha, ha," said the devil, "we're nearing h.e.l.l!"

Then oh, how the pa.s.sengers all shrieked with pain And begged the devil to stop the train.

But he capered about and danced for glee And laughed and joked at their misery.

"My faithful friends, you have done the work And the devil never can a payday shirk.

"You've bullied the weak, you've robbed the poor; The starving brother you've turned from the door, You've laid up gold where the canker rust, And have given free vent to your beastly l.u.s.t.

"You've justice scorned, and corruption sown, And trampled the laws of nature down.

You have drunk, rioted, cheated, plundered, and lied, And mocked at G.o.d in your h.e.l.l-born pride.

"You have paid full fare so I'll carry you through; For it's only right you should have your due.

Why, the laborer always expects his hire, So I'll land you safe in the lake of fire.

"Where your flesh will waste in the flames that roar, And my imps torment you forever more."

Then the cowboy awoke with an anguished cry, His clothes wet with sweat and his hair standing high.

Then he prayed as he never had prayed till that hour To be saved from his sin and the demon's power.

And his prayers and his vows were not in vain; For he never rode the h.e.l.l-bound train.

THE OLD SCOUT'S LAMENT

Come all of you, my brother scouts, And listen to my song; Come, let us sing together Though the shadows fall so long.

Of all the old frontiersmen That used to scour the plain There are but very few of them That with us yet remain.

Day after day they're dropping off, They're going one by one; Our clan is fast decreasing, Our race is almost run.

There are many of our number That never wore the blue, But faithfully they did their part As brave men, tried and true.

They never joined the army, But had other work to do In piloting the coming folks, To help them safely through.

But brothers, we are failing, Our race is almost run; The days of elk and buffalo And beaver traps are gone--

Oh, the days of elk and buffalo!

It fills my heart with pain To know these days are past and gone To never come again.