| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
A COWBOY'S HOPELESS LOVE
I
'VE heard that story ofttimes about that little
chap A-cryin' for the shiney moon to fall into his lap, An' jes a-raisin' merry hell because he couldn't git The same to swing down low so's he could nab a-holt of it,
An' I'm a-feelin' that-a-way, locoed I reckon, wuss Than that same kid, though maybe not a-makin' sich a fuss,—
A-goin' round with achin' eyes a-hankerin' fer a , peach
That's hangin' on the beauty tree, too high fer me to reach. I'm jes a rider of the range, plumb rough an' on-
refined, An' wild an' keerless in my ways, like others of my
kind; A reckless cuss in leather chaps, an' tanned an' black-
ened so You'd think I wuz a Greaser from the plains of
Mexico. I never learnt to say a prayer, an' guess my style o'
talk, If fired off in a Sunday School would give 'em all
a shock; 11 |
||
|
|
||