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The Sheep-Herder |
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He never seen a herd of sheep
Or smelt them, anyway. A-a! ma-a! ba-a! eh-eh-eh!
My woollies greasy gray,
An awful change has hit the range Since that old poet's day.
For you're just silly, on'ry brutes And I look like distress,
And my pipe ain't the kind that toots And there's no " shepherdess."
Yet 'way down home in Kansas State,
Bliss Township, Section Five,
There's one that's promised me to wait, The sweetest girl alive;
That's why I salt my wages down And mend my clothes with strings,
While others blow their pay in town For booze and other things.
A-a! ma-a! ba-a! eh-eh-eh!
My Minnie, don't be sad;
Next year we'll lease that splendid piece That corners on your dad.
We'll drive to " literary," dear, The way we used to do
And turn my lonely workin' here To happiness for you. 159 |
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