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Various
Cowboy Songs, and Other Frontier Ballads
BONNIE BLACK BESS
When fortune's blind goddess
Had fled my abode,
And friends proved unfaithful,
I took to the road;
To plunder the wealthy
And relieve my distress,
I bought you to aid me,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
No vile whip nor spur
Did your sides ever gall,
For none did you need,
You would bound at my call;
And for each act of kindness
You would me caress,
Thou art never unfaithful,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
When dark, sable midnight
Her mantle had thrown
O'er the bright face of nature,
How oft we have gone
To the famed Houndslow heath,
Though an unwelcome guest
To the minions of fortune,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
How silent you stood
When the carriage I stopped,
The gold and the jewels
Its inmates would drop.
No poor man I plundered
Nor e'er did oppress
The widows or orphans,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
When Argus-eyed justice
Did me hot pursue,
From Yorktown to London
Like lightning we flew.
No toll bars could stop you,
The waters did breast,
And in twelve hours we made it,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
But hate darkens o'er me,
Despair is my lot,
And the law does pursue me
For the many I've shot;
To save me, poor brute,
Thou hast done thy best,
Thou art worn out and weary,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
Hark! they never shall have
A beast like thee;
So noble and gentle
And brave, thou must die,
My dumb friend,
Though it does me distress,—
There! There! I have shot thee,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
In after years
When I am dead and gone,
This story will be handed
From father to son;
My fate some will pity,
And some will confess
'Twas through kindness I killed thee,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
No one can e'er say
That ingratitude dwelt
In the bosom of Turpin,—
'Twas a vice never felt.
I will die like a man
And soon be at rest;
Now, farewell forever,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
THE LAST LONGHORN
An ancient long-horned bovine
Lay dying by the river;
There was lack of vegetation
And the cold winds made him shiver;
A cowboy sat beside him
With sadness in his face.
To see his final passing,—
This last of a noble race.
The ancient eunuch struggled
And raised his shaking head,
Saying, "I care not to linger
When all my friends are dead.
These Jerseys and these Holsteins,
They are no friends of mine;
They belong to the nobility
Who live across the brine.
"Tell the Durhams and the Herefords
When they come a-grazing round,
And see me lying stark and stiff
Upon the frozen ground,
I don't want them to bellow
When they see that I am dead,
For I was born in Texas
Near the river that is Red.
"Tell the cayotes, when they come at night
A-hunting for their prey,
They might as well go further,
For they'll find it will not pay.
If they attempt to eat me,
They very soon will see
That my bones and hide are petrified,—
They'll find no beef on me.
"I remember back in the seventies,
Full many summers past,
There was grass and water plenty,
But it was too good to last.
I little dreamed what would happen
Some twenty summers hence,
When the nester came with his wife, his kids,
His dogs, and his barbed-wire fence."
His voice sank to a murmur,
His breath was short and quick;
The cowboy tried to skin him
When he saw he couldn't kick;
He rubbed his knife upon his boot
Until he made it shine,
But he never skinned old longhorn,
Caze he couldn't cut his rine.
And the cowboy riz up sadly
And mounted his cayuse,
Saying, "The time has come when longhorns
And their cowboys are no use!"
And while gazing sadly backward
Upon the dead bovine,
His bronc stepped in a dog-hole
And fell and broke his spine.
The cowboys and the longhorns
Who partnered in eighty-four
Have gone to their last round-up
Over on the other shore;
They answered well their purpose,
But their glory must fade and go,
Because men say there's better things
In the modern cattle show.
A PRISONER FOR LIFE
Fare you well, green fields,
Soft meadows, adieu!
Rocks and mountains,
I depart from you;
Nevermore shall my eyes
By your beauties be blest,
Nevermore shall you soothe
My sad bosom to rest.
Farewell, little birdies,
That fly in the sky,
You fly all day long
And sing your troubles by;
I am doomed to this cell,
I heave a deep sigh;
My heart sinks within me,
In anguish I die.
Fare you well, little fishes,
That glides through the sea,
Your life's all sunshine,
All light, and all glee;
Nevermore shall I watch
Your skill in the wave,
I'll depart from all friends
This side of the grave.
What would I give
Such freedom to share,
To roam at my ease
And breathe the fresh air;
I would roam through the cities,
Through village and dell,
But I never would return
To my cold prison cell.
What's life without liberty?
I ofttimes have said,
Of a poor troubled mind
That's always in dread;
No sun, moon, and stars
Can on me now shine,
No change in my danger
From daylight till dawn.
Fare you well, kind friends,
I am willing to own,
Such a wild outcast
Never was known;
I'm the downfall of my family,
My children, my wife;
God pity and pardon
The poor prisoner for life.
THE WARS OF GERMANY
There was a wealthy merchant,
In London he did dwell,
He had an only daughter,
The truth to you I'll tell.
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
She was courted by a lord
Of very high degree,
She was courted by a sailor Jack
Just from the wars of Germany.
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
Her parents came to know this,
That such a thing could be,
A sailor Jack, a sailor lad,
Just from the wars of Germany.
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
So Polly she's at home
With money at command,
She taken a notion
To view some foreign land.
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
She went to the tailor's shop
And dressed herself in man's array,
And was off to an officer
To carry her straight away.
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
"Good morning," says the officer,
And "Morning," says she,
"Here's fifty guineas if you'll carry me
To the wars of Germany."
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
"Your waist is too slender,
Your fingers are too small,
I am afraid from your countenance
You can't face a cannon ball."
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
"My waist is not too slender,
My fingers are not too small,
And never would I quiver
To face a cannon ball."
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
"We don't often 'list an officer
Unless the name we know;"
She answered him in a low, sweet voice,
"You may call me Jack Munro."
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
We gathered up our men
And quickly we did sail,
We landed in France
With a sweet and pleasant gale.
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
We were walking on the land,
Up and down the line,—
Among the dead and wounded
Her own true love she did find.
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
She picked him up all in her arms,
To Tousen town she went;
She soon found a doctor
To dress and heal his wounds,
Sing I am left alone,
Sing I am left alone.
So Jacky, he is married,
And his bride by his side,
In spite of her old parents
And all the world beside.
Sing no longer left alone,
Sing no longer left alone.
FREIGHTING FROM WILCOX TO GLOBE
Come all you jolly freighters
That has freighted on the road,
That has hauled a load of freight
From Wilcox to Globe;
We freighted on this road
For sixteen years or more
A-hauling freight for Livermore,—
No wonder that I'm poor.
And it's home, dearest home;
And it's home you ought to be,
Over on the Gila
In the white man's country,
Where the poplar and the ash
And mesquite will ever be
Growing green down on the Gila;
There's a home for you and me.
'Twas in the spring of seventy-three
I started with my team,
Led by false illusion
And those foolish, golden dreams;
The first night out from Wilcox
My best wheel horse was stole,
And it makes me curse a little
To come out in the hole.
This then only left me three,—
Kit, Mollie and old Mike;
Mike being the best one of the three
I put him out on spike;
I then took the mountain road
So the people would not smile,
And it took fourteen days
To travel thirteen mile.
But I got there all the same
With my little three-up spike;
It taken all my money, then,
To buy a mate for Mike.
You all know how it is
When once you get behind,
You never get even again
Till you damn steal them blind.
I was an honest man
When I first took to the road,
I would not swear an oath,
Nor would I tap a load;
But now you ought to see my mules
When I begin to cuss,
They flop their ears and wiggle their tails
And pull the load or bust.
Now I can tap a whiskey barrel
With nothing but a stick,
No one can detect me
I've got it down so slick;
Just fill it up with water,—
Sure, there's no harm in that.
Now my clothes are not the finest,
Nor are they genteel;
But they will have to do me
Till I can make another steal.
My boots are number elevens,
For I swiped them from a chow,
And my coat cost dos reals
From a little Apache squaw.
Now I have freighted in the sand,
I have freighted in the rain,
I have bogged my wagons down
And dug them out again;
I have worked both late and early
Till I was almost dead,
And I have spent some nights sleeping
In an Arizona bed.
Now barbed wire and bacon
Is all that they will pay,
But you have to show your copper checks
To get your grain and hay;
If you ask them for five dollars,
Old Meyers will scratch his pate,
And the clerks in their white, stiff collars
Say, "Get down and pull your freight."
But I want to die and go to hell,
Get there before Livermore and Meyers,
And get a job of hauling coke
To keep up the devil's fires;
If I get the job of singeing them,
I'll see they don't get free;
I'll treat them like a yaller dog,
As they have treated me.
And it's home, dearest home;
And it's home you ought to be,
Over on the Gila,
In the white man's country,
Where the poplar and the ash
And mesquite will ever be
Growing green down on the Gila;
There's a home for you and me.
THE ARIZONA BOYS AND GIRLS
Come all of you people, I pray you draw near,
A comical ditty you all shall hear.
The boys in this country they try to advance
By courting the ladies and learning to dance,—
And they're down, down, and they're down.
The boys in this country they try to be plain,
Those words that you hear you may hear them again,
With twice as much added on if you can.
There's many a boy stuck up for a man,—
And they're down, down, and they're down.
They will go to their parties, their whiskey they'll take,
And out in the dark their bottles they'll break;
You'll hear one say, "There's a bottle around here;
So come around, boys, and we'll all take a share,"—
And they're down, down, and they're down.
There is some wears shoes and some wears boots,
But there are very few that rides who don't shoot;
More than this, I'll tell you what they'll do,
They'll get them a watch and a ranger hat, too,—
And they're down, down, and they're down.
They'll go in the hall with spurs on their heel,
They'll get them a partner to dance the next reel,
Saying, "How do I look in my new brown suit,
With my pants stuffed down in the top of my boot?"—
And they're down, down, and they're down.
Now I think it's quite time to leave off these lads
For here are some girls that's fully as bad;
They'll trim up their dresses and curl up their hair,
And like an old owl before the glass they'll stare,—
And they're down, down, and they're down.
The girls in the country they grin like a cat,
And with giggling and laughing they don't know what they're at,
They think they're pretty and I tell you they're wise,
But they couldn't get married to save their two eyes,—
And they're down, down, and they're down.
You can tell a good girl wherever she's found;
No trimming, no lace, no nonsense around;
With a long-eared bonnet tied under her chin,—
And they're down, down, and they're down.
They'll go to church with their snuff-box in hand,
They'll give it a tap to make it look grand;
Perhaps there is another one or two
And they'll pass it around and it's "Madam, won't you,"—
And they're down, down, and they're down.
Now, I think it's quite time for this ditty to end;
If there's anyone here that it will offend,
If there's anyone here that thinks it amiss
Just come around now and give the singer a kiss,—
And they're down, down, and they're down.
THE DYING RANGER
The sun was sinking in the west
And fell with lingering ray
Through the branches of a forest
Where a wounded ranger lay;
Beneath the shade of a palmetto
And the sunset silvery sky,
Far away from his home in Texas
They laid him down to die.
A group had gathered round him,
His comrades in the fight,
A tear rolled down each manly cheek
As he bid a last good-night.
One tried and true companion
Was kneeling by his side,
To stop his life-blood flowing,
But alas, in vain he tried.
When to stop the life-blood flowing
He found 'twas all in vain,
The tears rolled down each man's cheek
Like light showers of rain.
Up spoke the noble ranger,
"Boys, weep no more for me,
I am crossing the deep waters
To a country that is free.
"Draw closer to me, comrades,
And listen to what I say,
I am going to tell a story
While my spirit hastens away.
Way back in Northwest Texas,
That good old Lone Star state,
There is one that for my coming
With a weary heart will wait.
"A fair young girl, my sister,
My only joy, my pride,
She was my friend from boyhood,
I had no one left beside.
I have loved her as a brother,
And with a father's care
I have strove from grief and sorrov
Her gentle heart to spare.
"My mother, she lies sleeping
Beneath the church-yard sod,
And many a day has passed away
Since her spirit fled to God.
My father, he lies sleeping
Beneath the deep blue sea,
I have no other kindred,
There are none but Nell and me.
"But our country was invaded
And they called for volunteers;
She threw her arms around me,
Then burst into tears,
Saying, 'Go, my darling brother,
Drive those traitors from our shore,
My heart may need your presence,
But our country needs you more.'
"It is true I love my country,
For her I gave my all.
If it hadn't been for my sister,
I would be content to fall.
I am dying, comrades, dying,
She will never see me more,
But in vain she'll wait my coming
By our little cabin door.
"Comrades, gather closer
And listen to my dying prayer.
Who will be to her as a brother,
And shield her with a brother's care?"
Up spake the noble rangers,
They answered one and all,
"We will be to her as brothers
Till the last one does fall."
One glad smile of pleasure
O'er the ranger's face was spread;
One dark, convulsive shadow,
And the ranger boy was dead.
Far from his darling sister
We laid him down to rest
With his saddle for a pillow
And his gun across his breast.
THE FAIR FANNIE MOORE
Yonder stands a cottage,
All deserted and alone,
Its paths are neglected,
With grass overgrown;
Go in and you will see
Some dark stains on the floor,—
Alas! it is the blood
Of fair Fannie Moore.
To Fannie, so blooming,
Two lovers they came;
One offered young Fannie
His wealth and his name;
But neither his money
Nor pride could secure
A place in the heart
Of fair Fannie Moore.
The first was young Randell,
So bold and so proud,
Who to the fair Fannie
His haughty head bowed;
But his wealth and his house
Both failed to allure
The heart from the bosom
Of fair Fannie Moore.
The next was young Henry,
Of lowest degree.
He won her fond love
And enraptured was he;
And then at the altar
He quick did secure
The hand with the heart
Of the fair Fannie Moore.
As she was alone
In her cottage one day,
When business had called
Her fond husband away,
Young Randell, the haughty,
Came in at the door
And clasped in his arms
The fair Fannie Moore.
"O Fannie, O Fannie,
Reflect on your fate
And accept of my offer
Before it's too late;
For one thing to-night
I am bound to secure,—
'Tis the love or the life
Of the fair Fannie Moore."
"Spare me, Oh, spare me!"
The young Fannie cries,
While the tears swiftly flow
From her beautiful eyes;
"Oh, no!" cries young Randell,
"Go home to your rest,"
And he buried his knife
In her snowy white breast.
So Fannie, so blooming,
In her bright beauty died;
Young Randell, the haughty,
Was taken and tried;
At length he was hung
On a tree at the door,
For shedding the blood
Of the fair Fannie Moore.
Young Henry, the shepherd,
Distracted and wild,
Did wander away
From his own native isle.
Till at length, claimed by death,
He was brought to this shore
And laid by the side
Of the fair Fannie Moore.
HELL IN TEXAS
The devil, we're told, in hell was chained,
And a thousand years he there remained;
He never complained nor did he groan,
But determined to start a hell of his own,
Where he could torment the souls of men
Without being chained in a prison pen.
So he asked the Lord if he had on hand
Anything left when he made the land.
The Lord said, "Yes, I had plenty on hand,
But I left it down on the Rio Grande;
The fact is, old boy, the stuff is so poor
I don't think you could use it in hell anymore."
But the devil went down to look at the truck,
And said if it came as a gift he was stuck;
For after examining it carefully and well
He concluded the place was too dry for hell.
So, in order to get it off his hands,
The Lord promised the devil to water the lands;
For he had some water, or rather some dregs,
A regular cathartic that smelled like bad eggs.
Hence the deal was closed and the deed was given
And the Lord went back to his home in heaven.
And the devil then said, "I have all that is needed
To make a good hell," and hence he succeeded.
He began to put thorns in all of the trees,
And mixed up the sand with millions of fleas;
And scattered tarantulas along all the roads;
Put thorns on the cactus and horns on the toads.
He lengthened the horns of the Texas steers,
And put an addition on the rabbit's ears;
He put a little devil in the broncho steed,
And poisoned the feet of the centipede.
The rattlesnake bites you, the scorpion stings,
The mosquito delights you with buzzing wings;
The sand-burrs prevail and so do the ants,
And those who sit down need half-soles on their pants.
The devil then said that throughout the land
He'd managed to keep up the devil's own brand,
And all would be mavericks unless they bore
The marks of scratches and bites and thorns by the score.
The heat in the summer is a hundred and ten,
Too hot for the devil and too hot for men.
The wild boar roams through the black chaparral,—
It's a hell of a place he has for a hell.
The red pepper grows on the banks of the brook;
The Mexicans use it in all that they cook.
Just dine with a Greaser and then you will shout,
"I've hell on the inside as well as the out!"
BY MARKENTURA'S FLOWERY MARGE
By Markentura's flowery marge the Red Chief's wigwam stood,
Before the white man's rifle rang, loud echoing through the wood;
The tommy-hawk and scalping knife together lay at rest,
And peace was in the forest shade and in the red man's breast.
Oh, the Spotted Fawn, oh, the Spotted Fawn,
The life and light of the forest shade,—
The Red Chief's child is gone!
By Markentura's flowery marge the Spotted Fawn had birth
And grew as fair an Indian maid as ever graced the earth.
She was the Red Chief's only child and sought by many a brave,
But to the gallant young White Cloud her plighted troth she gave.
By Markentura's flowery marge the bridal song arose,
Nor dreamed they in that festive night of near approaching woes;
But through the forest stealthily the white man came in wrath.
And fiery darts before them spread, and death was in their path.
By Markentura's flowery marge next morn no strife was seen,
But a wail went up, for the young Fawn's blood and White Cloud's dyed the green.
A burial in their own rude way the Indians gave them there,
And a low sweet requiem the brook sang and the air.
Oh, the Spotted Fawn, oh, the Spotted Fawn,
The life and light of the forest shade,—
The Red Chief's child is gone!
THE STATE OF ARKANSAW
My name is Stamford Barnes, I come from Nobleville town;
I've traveled this wide world over, I've traveled this wide world round.
I've met with ups and downs in life but better days I've saw,
But I've never knew what misery were till I came to Arkansaw.
I landed in St. Louis with ten dollars and no more;
I read the daily papers till both my eyes were sore;
I read them evening papers until at last I saw
Ten thousand men were wanted in the state of Arkansaw.
I wiped my eyes with great surprise when I read this grateful news,
And straightway off I started to see the agent, Billy Hughes.
He says, "Pay me five dollars and a ticket to you I'll draw,
It'll land you safe upon the railroad in the State of Arkansaw."
I started off one morning a quarter after five;
I started from St. Louis, half dead and half alive;
I bought me a quart of whiskey my misery to thaw,
I got as drunk as a biled owl when I left for old Arkansaw.
I landed in Ft. Smith one sultry Sunday afternoon,
It was in the month of May, the early month of June,
Up stepped a walking skeleton with a long and lantern jaw,
Invited me to his hotel, "The best in Arkansaw."
I followed my conductor into his dwelling place;
Poverty were depictured in his melancholy face.
His bread it was corn dodger, his beef I could not chaw;
This was the kind of hash they fed me in the State of Arkansaw.
I started off next morning to catch the morning train,
He says to me, "You'd better work, for I have some land to drain.
I'll pay you fifty cents a day, your board, washing, and all,—
You'll find yourself a different man when you leave old Arkansaw."
I worked six weeks for the son of a gun, Jesse Herring was his name,
He was six foot seven in his stocking feet and taller than any crane;
His hair hung down in strings over his long and lantern jaw,—
He was a photograph of all the gents who lived in Arkansaw.
He fed me on corn dodgers as hard as any rock,
Until my teeth began to loosen and my knees began to knock;
I got so thin on sassafras tea I could hide behind a straw,
And indeed I was a different man when I left old Arkansaw.
Farewell to swamp angels, cane brakes, and chills;
Farewell to sage and sassafras and corn dodger pills.
If ever I see this land again, I'll give to you my paw;
It will be through a telescope from here to Arkansaw.