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62 SONGS OF THE COWBOYS |
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The cowboy's life is a dreary, weary one, He works all day to the setting of the sun; And then his day's work is not done, For there's his night guard to go on.
"Saddle up! Saddle up!" the boss will holler out, When camped down by the Pecos Stream, Where the wolves and owls with their terrifying howls Will disturb us in our midnight dream.
You are speaking of your farms, you are speaking of
your charms, You are speaking of your silver and gold; But a cowboy's life is a dreary, dreary life, He's driven through the heat and cold.
Once I loved to roam, but now I stay at home:
AH you punchers take my advice;
Sell your bridle and your saddle, quit your roaming
and your travels, And tie on to a cross-eyed wife.
THE DYING COWBOY
Authorship credited to H. demons, Deadwood, Dakota, 1872. I first heard it from Kearn Carico, at Norfolk, Nebraska, in 1886.
"Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie"; Those words came slow and mournfully From the pallid lips of a youth that lay On his dying couch at the close of day.
He had wasted and pined till o'er his brow Death's shadows fast were drawing now; He had thought of home and the loved ones nigh, As the cowboys gathered to see him die. |
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