Written by J. F. McDermott, of Scranton, Pa.
Come all you Texas Rangers, bound West by the "overland,"
Come listen to my hardships-that you may understand
What 'tis to roam from friends and home to that land so far away,
Where savage Indians lie in wait the Rangers brave to slay.
I had a pretty sweetheart-I drew her to my side,
And asked her in a trembling tone if she would be my bride;
She promised me so faithfully her love would never die.
That I kissed her and caressed her till my heart was filled with joy.
I was but sixteen years of age when I joined this roving band;
We marched from Fort McHavett down to the Rio Grande:
'Twas there our captain said to us, "My boys, look sharp this night,
For before we go much further we will have a bloody fight."
When I saw the Indians coming, and heard their awful yell.
What dreadful feelings swept over me no human tongue can tell;
With glittering knives tomahawks they gathered 'round our trail,
My heart it sunk within me and my courage quite did fail.
Our captain called upon us to meet them hand to hand;
And soon I found myself engaged obeying his command,
First emptying our rifles, and then with sabers, drawn,
We fought the redskins right and left until the early dawn.
We fought them full five hours before the fight was o'er-
Such heaps of dead and wounded I never saw before-
Five hundred of the bravest men that e'er ranged Texas round,
Lay bleeding there next morning from many a ghastly wound.
Now, perhaps you have a mother, likewise a sister true,
Perhaps you have a sweetheart that would weep and mourn for you;
If that be your condition, I advise you ne'er to roam,
And I tell you from experience you had better stop at home.
I saw the fruits of rambling, I know it's hardships well;
I crossed the Rocky Mountains where many a brave man fell;
I have been in the great Southwest, where the wild Apaches roam,
But I never forget my parents, dear, nor the girl I left at home.