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American Ballads and Folk Songs |
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cactus—full, startling gold against the blackness of the cactus, and not so damnably cold as other moons.
"Miles we rode up the river-bed, and it was so cold—that satisfying, sensuous cold—it came through my rough-neck sweater and chaps and I revelled in it.
"Later on there was a huge fire and broiled steaks—and afterwards I sat on the edge of a tree which was thrown clear through the fire, and listened to the cowboy who was sitting next to me, sing. Song after song he sang—cowboy ballads which I had not heard before, as well as those with which I was familiar* One I shall never forget- It seemed my cowboy burned the fringe of his chaps as he sang to me, and there was a parody to that song made up afterwards. ..." *
Way high up in the Syree Peaks
Where the yellow pines grow tall, Old Sandy Bob and Buster Jiggs
Had a round-up camp last fall.
They took their horses and their runnin' irons
And maybe a dog or two; And they 'lowed they'd brand all the long-eared calves
That came within their view.
Many a long-eared dogie
That didn't hush up by day Had his long ears whittled and his old hide scorched
In a most artistic way.
One fine day, says Buster Jiggs
As he throwed his cigo down, "I'm tired o' cow-piography
And I 'lows I'm goin' to town."
'Contributed to the collection of Dr. Hazard by Helen Becker of Mills College.
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