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WESTWARD HO! |
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So in despair I turned into a busy Western town, And hoped to see the gun-fighters a-mowing of men
down; But while I loitered on the street to see blood by
the flagon, I fell before a green-goods man and then a devil
wagon.
For Western life ain't wild and woolly now;
There is no daily gunpowder powwow;
There are bunco games galore
And the chauffeur holds the floor —
But Western life ain't wild and woolly now! |
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WESTWARD HO!
Heard a horse wrangler named Singleton sing this on the Delaware, at point of the Guadalupe Mountains.
I love not Colorado Where the faro table grows, And down the desperado The rippling Bourbon flows;
Nor seek I fair Montana Of bowie-lunging fame; , The pistol ring of fair Wyoming I leave to nobler game.
Sweet poker haunted Kansas
In vain allures the eye;
The Nevada rough has charms enough,
Yet its blandishments I fly. |
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