BUCKING BRONCHO

My love is a rider, wild bronchos he breaks, Though he's promised to quit it, just for my sake.

He ties up one foot, the saddle puts on, With a swing and a jump he is mounted and gone.

The first time I met him, 'twas early one spring, Riding a broncho, a high-headed thing.

He tipped me a wink as he gaily did go; For he wished me to look at his bucking broncho.

The next time I saw him 'twas late in the fall, Swinging the girls at Tomlinson's ball.

He laughed and he talked as we danced to and fro, Promised never to ride on another broncho.

He made me some presents, among them a ring; The return that I made him was a far better thing; 'Twas a young maiden's heart, I'd have you all know; He's won it by riding his bucking broncho.

My love has a gun, and that gun he can use, But he's quit his gun fighting as well as his booze; And he's sold him his saddle, his spurs, and his rope, And there's no more cow punching, and that's what I hope.

My love has a gun that has gone to the bad, Which makes poor old Jimmy feel pretty d.a.m.n sad; For the gun it shoots high and the gun it shoots low, And it wobbles about like a bucking broncho.

Now all you young maidens, where'er you reside, Beware of the cowboy who swings the raw-hide; He'll court you and pet you and leave you and go In the spring up the trail on his bucking broncho.

THE PECOS QUEEN

Where the Pecos River winds and turns in its journey to the sea, From its white walls of sand and rock striving ever to be free, Near the highest railroad bridge that all these modern times have seen, Dwells fair young Patty Morehead, the Pecos River queen.

She is known by every cowboy on the Pecos River wide, They know full well that she can shoot, that she can rope and ride.

She goes to every round-up, every cow work without fail, Looking out for her cattle, branded "walking hog on rail."

She made her start in cattle, yes, made it with her rope; Can tie down every maverick before it can strike a lope.

She can rope and tie and brand it as quick as any man; She's voted by all cowboys an A-1 top cow hand.

Across the Comstock railroad bridge, the highest in the West, Patty rode her horse one day, a lover's heart to test; For he told her he would gladly risk all dangers for her sake-- But the puncher wouldn't follow, so she's still without a mate.

CHOPO

Through rocky arroyas so dark and so deep, Down the sides of the mountains so slippery and steep,-- You've good judgment, sure-footed, wherever you go, You're a safety conveyance, my little Chopo.

Refrain:-- Chopo, my pony, Chopo, my pride, Chopo, my amigo, Chopo I will ride.

From Mexico's borders 'cross Texas' Llano To the salt Pecos River, I ride you, Chopo.

Whether single or double or in the lead of the team, Over highways or byways or crossing a stream,-- You're always in fix and willing to go, Whenever you're called on, my chico Chopo.

You're a good roping horse, you were never jerked down, When tied to a steer, you will circle him round; Let him once cross the string and over he'll go,-- You sabe the business, my cow-horse, Chopo.

One day on the Llano a hailstorm began, The herds were stampeded, the horses all ran, The lightning it glittered, a cyclone did blow, But you faced the sweet music, my little Chopo.

TOP HAND

While you're all so frisky I'll sing a little song,-- Think a little horn of whiskey will help the thing along?

It's all about the Top Hand, when he busted flat b.u.mmin' round the town, in his Mexican hat.

He's laid up all winter, and his pocket book is flat, His clothes are all tatters, but he don't mind that.

See him in town with a crowd that he knows, Rollin' cigarettes and smokin' through his nose.

First thing he tells you, he owns a certain brand,-- Leads you to think he is a daisy hand; Next thing he tells you 'bout his trip up the trail, All the way to Kansas, to finish out his tale.

Put him on a hoss, he's a handy hand to work; Put him in the brandin'-pen, he's dead sure to shirk.

With his natural leaf tobacco in the pockets of his vest He'll tell you his California pants are the best.

He's handled lots of cattle, hasn't any fears, Can draw his sixty dollars for the balance of his years.

Put him on herd, he's a-cussin' all day; Anything he tries, it's sure to get away.

When you have a round-up, he tells it all about He's goin' to do the cuttin' an' you can't keep him out.

If anything goes wrong, he lays it on the screws, Says the lazy devils were tryin' to take a snooze.

When he meets a greener he ain't afraid to rig, Stands him on a chuck box and makes him dance a jig,-- Waves a loaded cutter, makes him sing and shout,-- He's a regular Ben Thompson when the boss ain't about.

When the boss ain't about he leaves his leggins in camp, He swears a man who wears them is worse than a tramp.

Says he's not carin' for the wages he earns, For Dad's rich in Texas,--got wagon loads to burn; But when he goes to town, he's sure to take it in, He's always been dreaded wherever he's been.

He rides a fancy horse, he's a favorite man, Can get more credit than a common waddie can.

When you ship the cattle he's bound to go along To keep the boss from drinking and see that nothing's wrong.

Wherever he goes, catch on to his name, He likes to be called with a handle to his name.

He's always primping with a pocket looking-gla.s.s, From the top to the bottom he's a bold Jacka.s.s.

CALIFORNIA TRAIL

List all you California boys And open wide your ears, For now we start across the plains With a herd of mules and steers.

Now, bear in mind before you start, That you'll eat jerked beef, not ham, And antelope steak, Oh cuss the stuff!

It often proves a sham.

You cannot find a stick of wood On all this prairie wide; Whene'er you eat you've got to stand Or sit on some old bull hide.

It's fun to cook with buffalo chips Or mesquite, green as corn,-- If I'd once known what I know now I'd have gone around Cape Horn.