104
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
And there the lonely traveler,
When passing by his grave,
Will shed a farewell tear
O’er the bravest of the brave.
When passing by his grave,
Will shed a farewell tear
O’er the bravest of the brave.
And he’ll go no more a-ranging,
The savage to affright;
He has heard his last war-whoop,
And fought his last fight.
The savage to affright;
He has heard his last war-whoop,
And fought his last fight.
MY LITTLE BROWN MULE
By N. Howard Thorp
Written in 1912, at Santa Fe, concerning a pet trick mule I owned.
His mammy’s a burro, his daddy’s a horse;
Of course you’ll all think it’s a mighty queer cross.
He’s got brains in his eyes, he’s nary a fool;
As smart as a cricket, my little brown mule.
Of course you’ll all think it’s a mighty queer cross.
He’s got brains in his eyes, he’s nary a fool;
As smart as a cricket, my little brown mule.
He’s always in mischief, he’ll shy at a bug;
When he sees a tin Lizzy he’ll jump like a frog;
He’s a voice like a trumpet, his coat’s always bright;
He’s as gentle as can be if the cinch is n’t tight.
When he sees a tin Lizzy he’ll jump like a frog;
He’s a voice like a trumpet, his coat’s always bright;
He’s as gentle as can be if the cinch is n’t tight.
Just pull on that flank cinch a little too long
And he won’t do a thing till you are mounted and on;
Then farewell, relations, good-bye to the crowd,
For you are off on a journey high up in the clouds.
And he won’t do a thing till you are mounted and on;
Then farewell, relations, good-bye to the crowd,
For you are off on a journey high up in the clouds.
At night I don’t stake him, just turn him foot-loose,
And inside of two hours he’s as full as a goose;
And inside of two hours he’s as full as a goose;
