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The Disheartened Ranger
For glory and payment, for vittles and raiment,
No longer we'll fight on the Texas frontier.
So guard your own ranches, and mind the Com-
anches Or surely they'll scalp you in less than a year.
Though sore it may grieve you, the rangers must
leave you Exposed to the arrows and knife of the foe; So herd your own cattle and fight your own battle, For home to the States I'm determined to go,—
Where churches have steeples and laws are more
equal, Where houses have people "and ladies are kind; Where work is regarded and worth is rewarded; Where pumpkins are plenty and pockets are lined.
Your wives and your daughters we have guarded
from slaughter, Through conflicts and struggles I shudder to tell; No more we'll defend them, to God we'll commend
them. To the frontier of Texas we bid a farewell.