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n8 SONGS OF THE COWBOYS |
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Twenty Mormon women, In all, fifty Mormon souls, Died from the lack of water, Paying the desert toll.
The ranchmen, on learning the story, How every one had died, Let the big steer have his freedom Through the Organ Valley wide.
In the winter he 'd drift down southward To the Franklin Mountains warm, In the summer you'd find him grazin' On the top of El Torro 's horn.
No one ever molests him,
A monument he stands
To those pioneers in search of homes,
That gallant Mormon band.
This was the story as told me
By a ranchman's little lass,
Of " North," the steer who roams the plains,
And of those in the White Sands Pass.
OLD PAINT
Heard this sung by a puncher who had been on a spree in Pecos City. He had taken a job temporarily as sheep-rustler for an outfit in Independence Draw, down the river, and was ashamed of the job. I won't mention his name.
Refrain:
Good-bye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne,
Good-bye, Old Paint, I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne. |
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