Oh, sad was the life of a Mormon to lead, Yet Brigham adhered all his life to his creed.

He said 'twas such fun, and true, without doubt, To see the young wives knock the old ones about.

Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.

One day as old Brigham sat down to his dinner He saw a young wife who was not getting thinner; When the elders cried out, one after the other, By the holy, she wants to go home to her mother.

Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.

Old Brigham replied, which can't be denied, He couldn't afford to lose such a bride.

Then do not be jealous but banish your fears; For the tree is well known by the fruit that it bears.

Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.

That I love one and all you very well know, Then do not provoke me or my anger will show.

What must be our fate if found here in a row, If Uncle Sam comes with his row-de-dow-dow.

Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.

Then cease all your quarrels and do not despair, To meet Uncle Sam I will quickly prepare.

Hark! I hear Yankee Doodle played over the hills!

Ah! here's the enemy with their powder and pills.

Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral.

BRIGHAM YOUNG. II.

Now Brigham Young is a Mormon bold, And a leader of the roaring rams, And shepherd of a lot of fine tub sheep And a lot of pretty little lambs.

Oh, he lives with his five and forty wives, In the city of the Great Salt Lake, Where they breed and swarm like hens on a farm And cackle like ducks to a drake.

Chorus:-- Oh Brigham, Brigham Young, It's a miracle how you survive, With your roaring rams and your pretty little lambs And your five and forty wives.

Number forty-five is about sixteen, Number one is sixty and three; And they make such a riot, how he keeps them quiet Is a downright mystery to me.

For they clatter and they chaw and they jaw, jaw, jaw, And each has a different desire; It would aid the renown of the best shop in town To supply them with half they desire.

Now, Brigham Young was a stout man once, And now he is thin and old; And I am sorry to state he is bald on the pate, Which once had a covering of gold.

For his oldest wives won't have white wool, And his young ones won't have red, So, with tearing it out, and taking turn about, They have torn all the hair off his head.

Now, the oldest wives sing songs all day, And the young ones all sing songs; And amongst such a crowd he has it pretty loud,-- They're as noisy as Chinese gongs.

And when they advance for a Mormon dance He is filled with the direst alarms; For they are sure to end the night in a tabernacle fight To see who has the fairest charms.

Now, if any man here envies Brigham Young Let him go to the Great Salt Lake; And if he has the leisure to enjoy his pleasure, He'll find it a great mistake.

One wife at a time, so says my rhyme, Is enough,--there's no denial;-- So, before you strive to be lord of forty-five, Take two for a month on trial.

THE OLD GRAY MULE

I am an old man some sixty years old And that you can plain-li see, But when I was a young man ten years old They made a stable boy of me.

I have seen the fastest horses That made the fastest time, But I never saw one in all my life Like that old gray mule of mine.

On a Sunday morn I dress myself, A-goin' out to ride; Now, my old mule is as gray as a bird, Then he is full of his pride.

He never runs away with you, Never cuts up any shine; For the only friend I have on earth Is this old gray mule of mine.

Now my old gray mule is dead and gone, Gone to join the heavenly band, With silver shoes upon his feet To dance on the golden strand.

THE FOOLS OF FORTY-NINE

When gold was found in forty-eight the people thought 'twas gas, And some were fools enough to think the lumps were only bra.s.s.

But soon they all were satisfied and started off to mine; They bought their ships, came round the Horn, in the days of forty-nine.

Refrain: Then they thought of what they'd been told When they started after gold,-- That they never in the world would make a pile.

The people all were crazy then, they didn't know what to do.

They sold their farms for just enough to pay their pa.s.sage through.

They bid their friends a long farewell, said, "Dear wife, don't you cry, I'll send you home the yellow lumps a piano for to buy."

The poor, the old, and the rotten scows were advertised to sail From New Orleans with pa.s.sengers, but they must pump and bail.

The ships were crowded more than full, and some hung on behind, And others dived off from the wharf and swam till they were blind.

With rusty pork and stinking beef and rotten, wormy bread!

The captains, too, that never were up as high as the main mast head!

The steerage pa.s.sengers would rave and swear that they'd paid their pa.s.sage And wanted something more to eat beside bologna sausage.

They then began to cross the plain with oxen, hollowing "haw."

And steamers then began to run as far as Panama.

And there for months the people staid, that started after gold, And some returned disgusted with the lies that had been told.

The people died on every route, they sickened and died like sheep; And those at sea before they died were launched into the deep; And those that died while crossing the plains fared not so well as that, For a hole was dug and they thrown in along the miserable Platte.

The ships at last began to arrive and the people began to inquire.

They say that flour is a dollar a pound, do you think it will be any higher?

And to carry their blankets and sleep outdoors, it seemed so very droll!

Both tired and mad, without a cent, they d.a.m.ned the lousy hole.

A RIPPING TRIP[13]

You go aboard a leaky boat And sail for San Francisco, You've got to pump to keep her afloat, You've got that, by jingo!