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SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
And he came a-runnin' to me and I jumped upon
his back, And he pitched for sheer enjoyment when I hit his
flank a whack.
Well, I rode across the open and I stooped down on
the run, And picked up the polo mallet (fer the player he
was done), And I hit that ball a crack, sir, and it sailed plum
o'er the fence, And the crowd just howled with pleasure, fer they
thought the sport immense.
Well, it cost me just six hundred fer to git my little
bronk, And to have that player patched up from his heels to
injured conk; But I got my old cow-pony — and jest hear this one
thing more: Don't whisper "polo" to him or he'll buck like
THE BIBLICAL COWBOY
Sent me by Jim Hagan, of Tulsa, Oklahoma
All day long on the prairies I ride,
Not even a dog to trot by my side;
My fire I kindle with chips gathered round,
My coffee I boil without being ground.
I wash in a pool and wipe on a sack; I carry my wardrobe all on my back;