His wife he loved and trusted And he hastened to obey; But the fact he soon regretted That he deeded his riches away. They quarreled and then they parted, The times were more than three, For both of them were stubborn And they never could agree. Now Doctor John, his brother, Was a highly respected man, He brought Effie home one evening, Saying, "Make up your quarrel if you can." And Rich seemed glad to see her, And followed her up the stair, But only God and the angels Know just what happened there. Doctor John was down at the table When he heard the pistol roar; He ran up the stairs in a moment And looked in at the open door. Poor Rich lay there by his pistol With a bullet through his brain, And Effie lay there dying Writhing in mortal pain. They were past all human succor, No earthly power could save; And they took their secrets with them To the land beyond the grave. Now all you wives and husbands, Take heed to this warning true. Never quarrel over lands and money Or some day the fact you will rue. --Coby Preston THE FATE OF FLOYD COLLINS This ballad was composed in 1925 by Jilson Setters, when Floyd Collins was trapped in a salt mine near Mammoth Cave, Kentucky. Come all you friends and neighbors And listen to what I say, I'll relate to you a story, Of a man who passed away. He struggled hard for freedom, His heart was true and brave, While his comrades they were toiling His precious life to save. His name was Floyd Collins, Exploring he did crave. But he never dreamed that he'd be trapped In a lonely sandstone cave. His entrance it was easy, His heart was light and gay, But his mind was filled with trouble When he found he'd lost his way. He wandered through the cavern, He knew not where to go, He knew he was imprisoned, His heart was full of woe. He started for the entrance That he had passed that day. A large and mighty boulder Had slipped down in his way.