1. |
Get Along, Little Dogies
03:44
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As I was a-walking one morning for pleasure,
I spied a cowpuncher a riding alone.
His hat was thrown back, his spurs was a jingling
As he approached me a singing this song.
Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, get along, little dogies,
It’s your misfortune and none of my own.
Whoopi-ti-yi-yo, get along, little dogies
For you know Wyoming will be your new home.
It’s early in the springtime we round up the dogies,
And mark them and brand them and bob off their tails,
Drive up the horses, load up the chuck wagon,
And throw those dogies out on the trail.
Whoopi-ti-yi-yo….
It’s whoopin’ and yellin’ and driving those dogies,
Oh, how I do wish that you would go on.
It’s whoopin’ and yellin’, go on, little dogies,
For you know that Wyoming will be your new home.
Whoopi-ti-yi-yo….
If ever I marry, it will be to a widow,
With six little orphans, not one of my own.
If every I marry, it will be to a widow,
With a great, big ranch and a ten-story home.
Whoopi-ti-yi-yo….
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2. |
Charlie Rutledge
02:47
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Another good cowpuncher has gone to meet his fate.
I hope he’ll find a resting place within the golden gate.
Another place is vacant on the ranch of the XIT.
’Twill be hard to find another was liked as well as he.
The first that died was Kid White, a man both tough and brave,
And Charlie Rutledge was the third to be carried to his grave.
Caused by a cow horse falling while running after stock.
’Twas on the spring round-up, a place where death men mock.
He went forward that morning on a circle through the hills.
He was gay and full of ease, and free from earthly ills.
But when he came to finish the work on which he went.
Nothing came back from him, for his time on earth was spent.
’Twas as he rode the round-up, a cow turned back from the herd.
Charlie shoved him in again, and his cattle horse he spurred.
Another turned at that moment and his horse the creature spied,
And turned and fell with him, and beneath, poor Charlie died.
His relatives in Texas, his face never more will see.
But I hope he’ll find a resting place beyond in eternity.
I hope he’ll meet his parents, will meet them face to face,
And that they’ll take him by the hand, in that shining throne of grace.
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3. |
The Rose Tree
01:22
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There is a land of pleasure,
Where streams of mercy ever roll,
’Tis there I have my treasure,
And there I long to rest my soul.
The vale of tears surrounds me
And Jordan’s currents roll before.
O! How I stand and tremble,
To hear the dismal water’s roar!
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4. |
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Just at the close of a bright summer’s day,
Just as the twilight was fading away.
Soft on the breeze, like the coo of a dove,
Someone was singing an old song of love.
Tell me you love me and say you’ll be true,
I love nobody in this world but you.
My heart and your heart in love will entwine.
Give me your love and I’ll give you mine.
Come with me down to the cool, shady nook,
Where flowers bloom by the side of the brook.
Nature is sleeping, the birds are at rest.
I’ll place a white rose on your beautiful breast.
Tell me you love me….
I’ve something to ask you while you’re by my side,
A question of love, of groom and of bride.
And if you refuse me, my heart it will pine.
Give me your love and I’ll give you mine.
Tell me you love me….
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5. |
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In these days of indigestion, it’s oftentimes the question
As to what to eat and what to leave alone.
For every microbe and bacillus has a different way to kill us,
And in time they always claim us for their own.
There are germs of every kind in any food that you can find,
In the market or upon the bill of fare.
Drinking water’s just as risky as the so-called “deadly whiskey,”
And it’s often a mistake to breathe the air.
For some little bug is going to find you someday.
Some little bug will creep behind you someday.
And then he’ll send for his bug friends, and all your trouble ends,
Oh, some little bug is going to find you someday.
The inviting green cucumber, it’s most everybody’s number,
While the green corn has a system of its own.
And while the radish seems nutritious, its behavior is quite vicious,
And a doctor will be coming to your home.
Eating lobster, cooked or plain, is only flirting with ptomaine,
While and oyster sometimes has a lot to say,
And the clams we eat in chowder make the angels sing the louder
For they know that we’ll be with them right away.
♦ ♦ ♦
When cold storage vaults I visit, I can only say what is it,
Makes poor mortals fill their systems with such stuff.
Now, for breakfast prunes are dandy, if a stomach pump is handy,
And your doctor can be found quite soon enough.
Eat a plate of fine pigs’ knuckles and the headstone cutter chuckles,
While the grave-digger makes a note upon his cuff.
Eat that lovely red bologna and you’ll wear a wood kimono,
As your relatives start scrapping ’bout your stuff.
For some little bug is going to find you someday.
Some little bug will creep behind you someday.
Eat some juicy sliced pineapple and the sexton dusts the chapel,
Oh, some little bug is going to find you someday.
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6. |
Whiskey Seller
02:51
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Of all the crimes that ever has been,
Selling whiskey is the greatest sin.
It causes more misery, pain and woe
Than any other crime I know.
So, get out of the way you whiskey seller.
You’ve ruined many of a clever fellow.
It causes the rich man to lose his store.
It cause him to beg from door to door.
It causes his wife and children to moan,
Because they have no home of their own.
So, get out of the way….
It causes the strong man to lose his strength,
And throws him in the mud at length.
And there he’s left to curse and roll,
As if he cared not for his soul.
So, get out of the way….
It causes the statesman to lose his brain,
And fills his head with aching pain.
And ofttimes in the ruts is found,
A-feeling upward for the ground.
So, get out of the way….
It causes the children’s bitter cries,
And tears to gush from their mother’s eyes.
It causes them to cry for bread,
And hungry they are then to bed.
So, get out of the way….
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7. |
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Oh, the light is fading fast and I’m thinking of the past,
I am sitting with my darling by my side.
She’s an old and wrinkled dame, but I love her just the same,
As the sunny day she came to be my bride.
Well, I think I see her now with a smile upon her brow,
As she vowed to be mine forever more.
Had no golden pastures wide, but I took her home with pride
To the cabin with the roses at the door.
Oh, the dear old cabin, my old cabin,
It’s my home on my own native shore.
I will heave my latest sigh, I will live and I will die,
In the cabin with the roses at the door.
Well, we labored and we toiled, and we found the grateful soil
Paid us back for our work a hundred fold.
We had money and to spare for our poor little share,
So we envied not the planter and his gold.
Still we had our times of grief; resignation brings relief,
But ’tis hard till the bitterness is o’er.
And we both were sorely tried when our little darling died,
In the cabin with the roses at the door.
Oh, the dear old cabin….
So we’ve simply journeyed on, though the boys and girls are gone,
To the city midst the trouble and the strife.
They have left us here alone in this cabin that’s their own,
Where so patiently we wait the close of life.
To each other, all in all, some sweet stories we recall,
Of the little ones who’ve gone on long before.
And we’re happy, though we know that we haven’t long to go,
In the cabin with the roses at the door.
Oh the dear old cabin….
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8. |
Poor Soldier
03:38
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All out in the snow they are tonight,
Far away from kin and home.
Protect the ones who fight for the right,
And those who have gone on.
Poor soldier, hungry and cold.
Poor soldier, hungry and cold.
It’s well I recollect when he bid me farewell.
He went with head held high.
Away to fight for the stars and stripes,
Perhaps away to die.
Poor soldier….
I know not where they are tonight.
God alone only knows.
Keep them safe and sound from all harm.
Protect them from all foes.
Poor soldier….
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9. |
Hop, Old Rabbit, Hop
02:16
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Yonder comes a little man a-riding by.
I says, “Old man, your horse’ll die.
Hop, hop, hop, old rabbit, hop.
If he dies I’ll tan his skin;
If he lives, I’ll ride him again.
Hop, hop, hop….
Well, if he dies it’s no big loss;
If he lives, he’s my old hoss.
Hop, hop, hop….
Old Mister Rabbit, you’re looking might brave.
Yes, my lord, I’m huntin’ a cave.
Hop, hop, hop….
Old Mister Rabbit, you’re ears are mighty long.
Yes, my lord, their put on wrong.
Hop, hop, hop….
Old Mister Rabbit, you’ve got a bad habit,
Of getting in the garden and eating all the cabbage.
Hop, hop, hop….
I’ll get old Jack and put him on the track,
Run that rabbit from thunder and back.
Hop, hop, hop….
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10. |
Bangum and the Boar
04:08
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Bangum would a wooin’ ride,
Dillum down, dillum down.
Bangum would a wooin’ ride,
Dillim down.
Bangum would a wooin’ ride,
Sword and buckler by his side,
Cub-ee-kee, cud-e-down, kill-e-quo-kum
Bangum rode to the greenwood side….
And there a pretty maid he spied….
There is a wild boar in these woods….
He’ll eat your flesh and suck your blood….
Well, how can I this wild boar see?...
Blast your horn, he’ll come to thee…..
Bangum clapped his horn to his mouth….
He blew a blast both loud and stout….
The wild boar come in such a rage….
He tore his way through oak and ash.
Bangum drew his wooden knife….
He swore he’d take that wild boar’s life.
They fought three hours in the day….
At last the wild boar stole away.
Bangum rode to the wild boar’s den….
He spied the bones of a thousand men.
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11. |
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The other day I chanced to meet a soldier friend of mine.
He’d been in camp for several weeks and he was looking fine.
His muscles had developed and his cheeks were rosy red.
I asked him how he liked the life, and this is what he said:
Oh, how I hate to get up in the morning,
Oh, how I’d like to remain in bed.
Oh the hardest blow of all is to hear the bugler call.
You have to get up, you have to get up, you have to get up this morning.
Someday I’m going to murder the bugler.
Someday they’ll wake up and find him dead.
I’ll amputate his reveille and step upon him heavily,
And then spend the rest of my life in bed.
Oh, a bugler in the army is the luckiest of men.
He wakes the boys at five and then goes back to bed again.
He doesn’t have to blow again until the afternoon.
If everything goes well with me, I’ll be a bugler soon.
Oh, how I hate to get up in the morning,
Oh, how I’d like to remain in bed.
Oh the hardest blow of all is to hear the bugler call.
You have to get up, you have to get up, you have to get up this morning.
Someday I’m going to murder the bugler.
Someday they’ll wake up and find him dead.
But first, I’ll get the other pup, the guy that wakes the bugler up,
And then spend the rest of my life in bed.
Oh, how I hate to get up in the morning.
Oh, how I’d like to remain in bed.
Oh the hardest blow of all is to hear the bugler call,
You have to get up, you have to get up, you have to get up this morning.
Oh, boy, the minute the battle is over,
Oh, boy, the minute the foe is dead,
I’ll put my uniform away and move to Philadephi-ay
And then spend the rest of my life in bed.
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12. |
Salem
01:07
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Break off your fears, ye saints, and tell
How high your great deliv’rer reigns.
Sing how he spoil’d the hosts of hell,
And led the monster death in chains!
Say, “Live forever, wondrous king!
Born to redeem, and strong to save!”
Then ask the monster “Where’s they sting?
And where’s thy vic’try, boasting grave?”
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13. |
The Big Corral
03:46
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It’s early in the morning ’bout half-past four,
Press along to the big corral
It’s rise up boys, you can’t sleep no more.
Press along to the big corral.
Press along cowboy, press along with a cowboy yell – hee haw!
Press along, with a noise, big noise, press along to the big corral.
Our outfit cook is a rough old bear….
With flour in his beard and grease in his hair.
Press along….
Oh, the grub we get ain’t fit to eat;
There’s rocks in the beans and sand in the meat.
Press along….
Oh, the coffee’s full of alkali….
And the cornbread tastes like moose-turd pie.
Press along….
Oh, the ground is level and the grass is thick….
We’ll water our herd at the next big creek.
Press along….
All day in the saddle, ride around and around….
We’ll sit and tell stories when the sun goes down.
Press along….
When we get to Dodge, we’ll have some fun….
Will drink and gamble till our money’s all gone.
Press along….
Oh, the heat of the day is over now.
That’s good for a man and good for a cow.
Press along….
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14. |
The Night Guard
03:15
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Oh, the cowboys were gathered ’round the campfire
All tired from a long, hard day.
As they rolled their smokes, they told some jokes
To pass the time away.
The big trail herd was hard to hold,
The night guard sang a song,
To bed the cattle and keep them still,
Throughout the whole night long.
Well, the night guard was a handsome lad,
His face was tanned from the sun.
And his heart was lawfully wedded home,
Back to the only one.
She was a girl you’d surely love
If her you could but see.
Her eyes shown like the stars at night,
And a thousand charms had she.
As the dawn rose in the eastern sky,
The cattle began to stir.
The outline gleamed in the night guard’s eye,
For he’s on his way to her.
A longhorn steer came ambling by,
The blood was in his eye.
He caught the night guard unawares,
And charged as he rode by.
The night guard’s horse, in mighty leap,
Threw his rider on his head.
The steer then got him as he rose,
And there we found him dead.
The little girl has changed a lot,
She seems to have grown old.
I guess it was the news we brought,
And the story that we told.
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15. |
Don't Leave the Farm
03:53
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Come boys, I have something to tell you.
Come near, I would whisper it low.
Are you thinking of leaving the homestead,
Don’t be in a hurry to go.
For the city has many attractions,
But think of the vices and sins.
When once in the vortex of fashion,
How soon the course downward begins.
Don’t be in a hurry to go,
Don’t be in a hurry to go.
Are you thinking of leaving the homestead?
Don’t be in a hurry to go.
Now, you talk of the mines of Australia
They’re wealthy with gold, without doubt.
But ah, there is gold on the farm, boys,
If only you’ll shovel it out.
Oh, the mercantile life is a hazard,
The goods are first high and then low.
Better risk the old farm a while longer,
And don’t be in a hurry to go.
Don’t be in a hurry to go….
Now the great, busy west has inducements,
And so has the busiest mart.
But wealth wasn’t made in day, boys,
So don’t be in a hurry to start.
The bankers and brokers are wealthy;
They take in their thousands or so,
But think on the frauds and deceptions,
And don’t be in a hurry to go.
Don’t be in a hurry to go….
So the farm is the safest and surest,
The orchards are loaded today.
You’re king of the air on the mountain,
And monarch of all you survey.
Better risk the old farm a while longer,
Though profits come in rather slow.
Remember you’ve nothing to lose, boys,
And don’t be in a hurry to go.
Don’t be in a hurry to go….
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16. |
Wreck of the Six-Wheeler
02:56
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Monday morning it began to rain.
’Round the curve come a passenger train.
On the Charlie was old Jimmie Jones.
He’s a good old rounder, but he’s dead and gone.
He’s dead and gone, he’s dead and gone.
Been on the Charlie so long.
Now, Joseph Michael was a good engineer,
Told his fireman weather not to fear.
All he wanted, keep her good and hot.
We’ll make a pass about four o’clock.
About four o’clock, about four o’clock,
I been on the Charlie so long.
Now, when we was about a mile out the place,
Number One stared us right in the face.
Fireman look at this watch and he mumbled and said,
“We may make it, but we’ll all be dead.
“Well all be dead, we’ll all be dead,
And I been on the Charlie so long.”
When the two locomotives was about to bump,
Fireman was preparing for to make his jump.
Engineer blowed the whistle and the fireman bawled,
“Oh, Mister conductor won’t you save us all.”
“Oh, save us all, won’t you save us all,
And I been on the Charlie so long.”
Oh, you oughta been there for to see the sight,
Running and a-screaming, both colored and white.
Some was crippled and some was lame,
But the six-wheel driver had to bear the blame.
He had to bear the blame, he had to bear the blame,
He’d been on the Charlie so long.
Now, ain’t it a pity and ain’t it a shame,
That the six-wheel driver had to bear the blame.
He’d been on the Charlie so long.
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17. |
The Cowboy
02:49
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All day in the saddle, on the prairie I ride,
Not even a dog, boys, to trot by my side.
My fire I must kindle from chips gathered ’round,
And I boil my own coffee without being ground.
Now, for want of a stove I cook bread in a pot.
I sleep on the ground, boys, for want of a cot.
I bathe in a creek, I dry on a sack,
And I carry my wardrobe all on my back.
My books are the brooks and my sermons the stones.
My parson’s the wolf on his pulpit of bone.
My roof is the sky, my floor is the grass,
And my music’s the lowing of herds as they pass.
And then if my cooking’s not very complete,
You can’t blame me for wanting to eat.
But show me the man who sleeps more profound
Than the big puncher boy who’s stretched out on the ground.
Now society brands me so savage and dodge;
The Masons would bar me out of their lodge.
If I’d hair on my chin, I’d resemble the goat,
That bore all the sins in the ages remote.
Now my parson remarks from his pulpit of bone,
“Fortune favors those who look out for their own.
And Cupid is always a friend to the bold,
And all of his arrows are pointed with gold.”
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