Cowboy Songs | Page 9

always stay at home; That's a
cowman's, a cowman's advice, Way up on the Kansas line.
Think I heard the noisy cook say, "Wake up, boys, it's near the break of
day,"-- Way up on the Kansas line, And slowly we will rise with the

sleepy feeling eyes, Way up on the Kansas line.
The cowboy's life is a dreary, dreary life, All out in the midnight rain;
I'm almost froze with the water on my clothes, Way up on the Kansas
line.

THE COWMAN'S PRAYER
Now, O Lord, please lend me thine ear, The prayer of a cattleman to
hear, No doubt the prayers may seem strange, But I want you to bless
our cattle range.
Bless the round-ups year by year, And don't forget the growing steer;
Water the lands with brooks and rills For my cattle that roam on a
thousand hills.
Prairie fires, won't you please stop? Let thunder roll and water drop. It
frightens me to see the smoke; Unless it's stopped, I'll go dead broke.
As you, O Lord, my herd behold, It represents a sack of gold; I think at
least five cents a pound Will be the price of beef the year around.
One thing more and then I'm through,-- Instead of one calf, give my
cows two. I may pray different from other men But I've had my say,
and now, Amen.

THE MINER'S SONG[4]
In a rusty, worn-out cabin sat a broken-hearted leaser, His singlejack
was resting on his knee. His old "buggy" in the corner told the same old
plaintive tale, His ore had left in all his poverty. He lifted his old
singlejack, gazed on its battered face, And said: "Old boy, I know we're
not to blame; Our gold has us forsaken, some other path it's taken, But I
still believe we'll strike it just the same.
"We'll strike it, yes, we'll strike it just the same, Although it's gone into

some other's claim. My dear old boy don't mind it, we won't starve if
we don't find it, And we'll drill and shoot and find it just the same.
"For forty years I've hammered steel and tried to make a strike, I've
burned twice the powder Custer ever saw. I've made just coin enough
to keep poorer than a snake. My jack's ate all my books on mining law.
I've worn gunny-sacks for overalls, and 'California socks,' I've burned
candles that would reach from here to Maine, I've lived on powder,
smoke, and bacon, that's no lie, boy, I'm not fakin', But I still believe
we'll strike it just the same.
"Last night as I lay sleeping in the midst of all my dream My assay ran
six ounces clear in gold, And the silver it ran clean sixteen ounces to
the seam, And the poor old miner's joy could scarce be told. I lay there,
boy, I could not sleep, I had a feverish brow, Got up, went back, and
put in six holes more. And then, boy, I was chokin' just to see the
ground I'd broken; But alas! alas! the miner's dream was o'er.
"We'll strike it, yes, we'll strike it just the same, Although it's gone into
some other's claim. My dear old boy, don't mind it, we won't starve if
we don't find it, And I still believe I'll strike it just the same."
[Footnote 4: Printed as a fugitive ballad in Grandon of Sierra, by
Charles E. Winter.]

JESSE JAMES
Jesse James was a lad that killed a-many a man; He robbed the Danville
train. But that dirty little coward that shot Mr. Howard Has laid poor
Jesse in his grave.
Poor Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life, Three children, they were
brave. But that dirty little coward that shot Mr. Howard Has laid poor
Jesse in his grave.
It was Robert Ford, that dirty little coward, I wonder how he does feel,
For he ate of Jesse's bread and he slept in Jesse's bed, Then laid poor

Jesse in his grave.
Jesse was a man, a friend to the poor, He never would see a man suffer
pain; And with his brother Frank he robbed the Chicago bank, And
stopped the Glendale train.
It was his brother Frank that robbed the Gallatin bank, And carried the
money from the town; It was in this very place that they had a little
race, For they shot Captain Sheets to the ground.
They went to the crossing not very far from there, And there they did
the same; With the agent on his knees, he delivered up the keys To the
outlaws, Frank and Jesse James.
It was on Wednesday night, the moon was shining bright, They robbed
the Glendale train; The people they did say, for many