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THE CAMP FIRE HAS GONE OUT
T
HROUGH progress of the railroads our occupation's gone; So we will put ideas into words, our words into a
song. First comes the cowboy, he is pointed for the west; Of all the pioneers I claim the cowboys are the best; You will miss him on the round-up, it's gone, his
merry shout,— The cowboy has left the country and the campfire
has gone out.
There is the freighters, our companions, you've got
to leave this land, Can't drag your loads for nothing through the
gumbo and the sand. The railroads are bound to beat you when you do
your level best; So give it up to the grangers and strike out for the
west. Bid them all adieu and give the merry shout,— The cowboy has left the country and the campfire has
gone out.
When I think of those good old days, my eyes with' tears do fill; |
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