Or else the lumbering carts are brought in play, That jolt and scream and groan along the way, But to their happy tenants cause no frown.

_Se corren los toros!_ And Juan brings his Pepita into town.

The Plaza De Los Toros offers seats, Some deep in shade, on some the fierce sun beats; These for the don, those for the rustic clown.

_Se corren los toros!_ And Juan brings his Pepita into town.

Pepita sits, so young and sweet and fresh, The sun shines on her hair's dusky mesh.

Her day of days, how soon it will be flown!

_Se corren los toros!_ And Juan's brought his Pepita into town.

The bull is harried till the governor's word Bids the Diestro give the agile sword; Then shower the bravos and the roses down!

_'Sta muerto el toro!_ And Juan takes his Pepita back from the town.

_L. Worthington Green._

THE COWBOY'S VALENTINE

SAY, Moll, now don't you 'llow to quit A-playin' maverick?

Sech stock should be corralled a bit An' hev a mark 't 'll stick.

Old Val's a-roundin'-up today Upon the Sweetheart Range, 'N me a-helpin', so to say, Though this yere herd is strange

To me--'n yit, ef I c'd rope Jes _one_ to wear my brand I'd strike f'r Home Ranch on a lope, The happiest in the land.

Yo' savvy who I'm runnin' so, Yo' savvy who I be; Now, can't yo' take that brand--yo' know,-- The [Symbol: Heart] M-I-N-E.

_C. F. Lummis._

A COWBOY'S HOPELESS LOVE

I'VE heard that story ofttimes about that little chap A-cryin' for the shiney moon to fall into his lap, An' jes a-raisin' merry h.e.l.l because he couldn't git The same to swing down low so's he could nab a-holt of it, An' I'm a-feelin' that-a-way, locoed I reckon, wuss Than that same kid, though maybe not a-makin' sich a fuss,-- A-goin' round with achin' eyes a-hankerin' fer a peach That's hangin' on the beauty tree, too high fer me to reach.

I'm jes a rider of the range, plumb rough an' on-refined, An' wild an' keerless in my ways, like others of my kind; A reckless cuss in leather chaps, an' tanned an' blackened so You'd think I wuz a Greaser from the plains of Mexico.

I never learnt to say a prayer, an' guess my style o' talk, If fired off in a Sunday School would give 'em all a shock; An' yet I got a-mopin' round as crazy as a loon An' actin' like the story kid that bellered fer the moon.

I wish to G.o.d she'd never come with them bright laughin' eyes,-- Had never flashed that smile that seems a sunburst from the skies,-- Had stayed there in her city home instead o' comin' here To visit at the ranch an' knock my heart plumb out o' gear.

I wish to G.o.d she'd talk to me in a way to fit the case,-- In words t'd have a tendency to hold me in my place,-- Instead o' bein' sociable an' actin' like she thought Us cowboys good as city gents in clothes that's tailor bought.

If I would hint to her o' love, she'd hit that love a jar An' laugh at sich a tough as me a-tryin' to rope a star; She'd give them fluffy skirts a flirt, an' skate out o' my sight, An' leave me paralyzed,--an' it'd serve me cussed right.

I wish she'd pack her pile o' trunks an' hit the city track, An' maybe I'd recover from this violent attack; An' in the future know enough to watch my feedin' ground An' shun the loco weed o' love when there's an angel round.

_James Barton Adams._

THE CHASE

HERE'S a moccasin track in the drifts, It's no more than the length of my hand; An' her instep,--just see how it lifts!

If that ain't the best in the land!

For the maid ran as free as the wind And her foot was as light as the snow.

Why, as sure as I follow, I'll find Me a kiss where her red blushes grow.

Here's two small little feet and a skirt; Here's a soft little heart all aglow.

See me trail down the dear little flirt By the sign that she left in the snow!

Did she run? 'Twas a sign to make haste.

An' why bless her! I'm sure she won't mind.

If she's got any kisses to waste, Why, she knew that a man was behind.

Did she run 'cause she's only afraid?

No! For sure 'twas to set me the pace!

An' I'll follow in love with a maid When I ain't had a sight of her face.

There she is! An' I knew she was near.

Will she pay me a kiss to be free?

Will she hate? Will she love? Will she fear?

Why, the darling! She's waiting to see!

_Poc.o.c.k in "Curley."_

RIDING SONG

LET us ride together,-- Blowing mane and hair, Careless of the weather, Miles ahead of care, Ring of hoof and snaffle, Swing of waist and hip, Trotting down the twisted road With the world let slip.

Let us laugh together,-- Merry as of old To the creak of leather And the morning cold.

Break into a canter; Shout to bank and tree; Rocking down the waking trail, Steady hand and knee.

Take the life of cities,-- Here's the life for me.

'Twere a thousand pities Not to gallop free.

So we'll ride together, Comrade, you and I, Careless of the weather, Letting care go by.

_Anonymous._

OUR LITTLE COWGIRL

THAR she goes a-lopin', stranger, Khaki-gowned, with flyin' hair, Talk about your cla.s.sy ridin',-- Wal, you're gettin' it right thar.

Jest a kid, but lemme tell you When she warms a saddle seat On that outlaw bronc a-straddle She is one that can't be beat!