| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
|
||
|
104 SONGS OF THE COWBOYS |
||
|
|
||
|
And there the lonely traveler, ' When passing by his grave, Will shed a farewell tear O'er the bravest of the brave.
And he'll go no more a-ranging, The savage to affright; He has heard his last war-whoop, And fought his last fight.
MY LITTLE BROWN MULE
By N. Howard Thorp
Written in 1912, at Santa Fe, concerning a pet trick mule I owned.
His mammy's a burro, his daddy's a horse; Of course you'll all think it's a mighty queer cross. He's got brains in his eyes, he's nary a fool; As smart as a cricket, my little brown mule.
He's always In mischief, he'll shy at a bug; When he sees a tin Lizzy he'll jump like a frog; He's a voice like a trumpet, his coat's always bright; He's as gentle as can be if the cinch is n't tight.
Just pull on that flank cinch a little too long And he won't do a thing till you are mounted and on; Then farewell, relations, good-bye to the crowd, For you are off on a journey high up in the clouds.
At night I don't stake him, just turn him foot-loose, And inside of two hours he's as full as a goose; |
||
|
|
||