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SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
I've never tasted home bread, Nor cakes nor muss like that; But I know fried dough and beef Pulled from red-hot tallow fat.
I hate to see the wire fence
A-closin' up the range;
And all this fillin' in the trail
With people that is strange.
We fellers don't know how to plough,
Nor reap the golden grain;
But to round up steers and brand the cows
To us was alius plain.
So when this blasted country
Is all closed in with wire,
And all the top as trot grass
Is burnin' in Sol's fire,
I hope the settlers will be glad
When rain hits the land,
And all us cowdogs are in hell
With a "set" joined hand in hand.
BRONCO JACK'S THANKSGIVING
By James Barton Adams
Heard this recited by a young lady at a Cowboys9 Reunion at Las Vegas, New Mexico, and afterwards learned the author's name,
'T was this time jest a year ago on this Thanks-
givin' Day, That me an' Bronco Jack stood up, an' pa gave me