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ain't Bill Black boss bound boys brave break brother buffalo bury called cattle cold coming comrade cowboy cowboy's dead dear death dogies don't dreary dying eyes face fair fall father fellows fight friends gave girl give gold gone grave green hair hand hard head hear heard heart hell herd hill horse Hurrah I'll Indians it's Jack keep kind laid land leave lived lone look married morning mother mountain never night o'er passed plains play poor prairie range rangers rest ride roam rode roll round round-up saddle shanty side Sing sleeping song soon started stay sure sweet tears tell Texas there's thought told took town trail true turned Twas West wife wild young
Page 106 - The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up: He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar, — "Now tread we a measure!
Page 149 - Sam Bass was born in Indiana, it was his native home, And at the age of seventeen young Sam began to roam. Sam first came out to Texas a cowboy for to be, — A kinder-hearted fellow you seldom ever see.
Page 42 - I would not exchange my home on the range, Where the deer and the antelope play ; Where seldom is heard a discouraging word And the skies are not cloudy all day.
Page 42 - Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam, Where the deer and the antelope play, Where seldom is heard a discouraging word And the skies are not cloudy all day.
Page 21 - And I'm scared that I'll be a stray yearling, A maverick, unbranded on high, And get cut in the bunch with the "rustics" When the Boss of the Riders goes by.
Page 30 - The people held their breath when they heard of Jesse's death, And wondered how he ever came to die. It was one of the gang called little Robert Ford, He shot poor Jesse on the sly. Jesse went to his rest with his hand on his breast; The devil will be upon his knee.
Page 61 - My boss throwed me off at the creek called Mud, My hoss throwed me off round the 2-U herd. Last time I saw him he was going cross the level A-kicking up his heels and a-running like the devil. It's cloudy in the West, a-looking like rain, And my damned old slicker's in the wagon again. Crippled my hoss, I don't know how, Ropin
Page 20 - The road to that bright, happy region Is a dim, narrow trail, so they say ; But the broad one that leads to perdition Is posted and blazed all the way. They say there will be a great round-up, And cowboys, like dogies, will stand, To be marked by the Riders of Judgment Who are posted and know every brand. I...