The Melancholy Cowboy
Come all you melancholy folks and listen unto me,
I will sing you about the cowboy whose heart's so light and free;
He roves all over the prairie and at night when he lays down
His heart's as gay as the flowers of May with his bed spread on the ground.
They are a little bit rough, I must confess, the most of them at least;
But as long as you do not cross their trail, you can live with them in peace.
But if you do, they're sure to rule, the day you come to their land,
For they'll follow you up and shoot it out, they'll do it man to man.
You can go to a cowboy hungry, go to him wet or dry,
And ask him for a few dollars in change and he will not deny;
He will pull out his pocket-book and hand you out a note,—
Oh, they are the fellows to strike, boys, whenever you are broke.
You can go to their ranches and often stay for weeks,
And when you go to leave, boys, they'll never charge you a cent;
But when they go to town, boys, you bet their money is spent.
They walk right up, they take their drinks and they pay for every one.
They never ask your pardon, boys, for a thing that they have done.
They go to the ball-room, and swing the pretty girls around;
They ride their bucking broncos, and wear their broad-brimmed hats;
Their California saddles, their pants below their boots,
You can hear their spurs go jing-a-ling, or perhaps somebody shoots.
Come all you soft and tenderfeet, if you want to have some fun,
Come go among the cowboys and they'll show you how it's done;
But take the kind advice of me as I gave it to you before,
For if you don't, they'll order you off with an old Colt's forty-four.