The Cowboy
All day long on the prairies I ride,
Not even a dog to trot by my side;
My fire I kindle with chips gathered round,
My coffee I boil without being ground.
I wash in a pool and wipe with a sack;
For want of an oven I cook bread in a pot,
And sleep on the ground for want of a cot,
My ceiling is the sky, my floor is the grass,
My music is the lowing of the herds as they pass;
My books are the brooks, my sermons the stones,
My parson is a wolf on his pulpit of bones.
And then if my cooking is not very complete
You can't blame me for wanting to eat.
But show me a man that sleeps more profound
Thank the big puncher-boy who stretches himself on the ground.
My books teach me ever consistence to prize,
My sermons, that small things I should not despise;
My parson remarks from his pulpit of bones
That fortune favors those who look out for their own.
And then between me and love lies a gulf very wide.
Some lucky fellow may call her his bride.
My friends gently hint I am coming to grief,
But men must make money and women have beef.
But Cupid is always a friend to the bold,
And the best of his arrows are pointed with gold.
If I had hair on my chin, I might pass for the goat
That bore all the sins in the ages remote;
But why it is I can never understand,
For each of the patriarchs owned a big brand.
Abraham emigrated in search of a range,
And when water was scarce he wanted a change;
old Isaac owned cattle in charge of Esau,
And Jacob punched cows for his father-in-law.
He started in business way down at bed rock,
And made quite a streak at handling stock;
Then David went from night-herding to using a sling;
And, winning the battle, he became a great king.
Then the shepherds, while herding the sheep on a hill,
Got a message from heaven of peach and goodwill.
All day long on the prairies I ride,
Not even a dog to trot by my side;
My fire I kindle with chips gathered round,
My coffee I boil without being ground.
Adios,
Jessie Lou
