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THE DESERTED ADOBE
/ Yy OUND the 'dobe rank sands are thickly blowin', XV Its ridges fill the deserted field; Yet on this claim young lives once hope were sowing For all the years might yield; And in strong hands the echoing hoof pursuin' A wooden share turned up the sod, The toiler brave drank deep the fresh air's brewin' And sang content to God.
The toiler brave drank deep the fresh air's brewin'
And sang content to God.
A woman fair and sweet has smilin' striven
Through long and lonesome hours;
A blue-eyed babe, a bit of earthly heaven,
Laughed at the sun's hot towers;
A bow of promise made this desert splendid,
This 'dobe was their pride.
But what began so well, alas, has ended —,
The promise died.
But what began so well alas soon ended —,
The promise died.
Their plans and dreams, their cheerful labor wasted In dry and mis-spent years; The spring was sweet, the summer bitter tasted,
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