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The Cowboy's Lament
" Go write a letter to my gray-haired mother,
And carry the same to my sister so dear;
But not a word of this shall you mention
When a crowd gathers round you my story to hear.
" Then beat your drum lowly and play your fife slowly,
Beat the Dead March as you carry me along;
We all love our cowboys so young and so handsome,
We all love our cowboys although they've done wrong. '
"There is another more dear than a sister, She'll bitterly weep when she hears I am gone. There is another who will win her affections,. For I'm a young cowboy and they say I've done wrong.
" Go gather around you a crowd of young cowboys, And tell them the story of this my sad fate; Tell one and the other before they go further To stop their wild roving before 'tis too late.
" Oh, muffle your drums, then play your fifes merrily; Play the Dead March as you go along. And fire your guns right over my coffin; There goes an unfortunate boy to his home.*