They dug her grave both deep and wide And buried sweet Willie by her side; And on her grave set a turtle dove To show the world they died for love. BRIGHAM YOUNG. I. I'll sing you a song that has often been sung About an old Mormon they called Brigham Young. Of wives he had many who were strong in the lungs, Which Brigham found out by the length of their tongues. Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral. Oh, sad was the life of a Mormon to lead, Yet Brigham adhered all his life to his creed. He said 'twas such fun, and true, without doubt, To see the young wives knock the old ones about. Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral. One day as old Brigham sat down to his dinner He saw a young wife who was not getting thinner; When the elders cried out, one after the other, By the holy, she wants to go home to her mother. Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral. Old Brigham replied, which can't be denied, He couldn't afford to lose such a bride. Then do not be jealous but banish your fears; For the tree is well known by the fruit that it bears. Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral. That I love one and all you very well know, Then do not provoke me or my anger will show. What must be our fate if found here in a row, If Uncle Sam comes with his row-de-dow-dow. Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral. Then cease all your quarrels and do not despair, To meet Uncle Sam I will quickly prepare. Hark! I hear Yankee Doodle played over the hills! Ah! here's the enemy with their powder and pills. Ri tu ral, lol, lu ral. BRIGHAM YOUNG. II. Now Brigham Young is a Mormon bold, And a leader of the roaring rams, And shepherd of a lot of fine tub sheep And a lot of pretty little lambs. Oh, he lives with his five and forty wives, In the city of the Great Salt Lake, Where they breed and swarm like hens on a farm And cackle like ducks to a drake. Chorus:-- Oh Brigham, Brigham Young, It's a miracle how you survive, With your roaring rams and your pretty little lambs And your five and forty wives. Number forty-five is about sixteen, Number one is sixty and three; And they make such a riot, how he keeps them quiet Is a downright mystery to me. For they clatter and they chaw and they jaw, jaw, jaw, And each has a different desire; It would aid the renown of the best shop in town To supply them with half they desire. Now, Brigham Young was a stout man once, And now he is thin and old; And I am sorry to state he is bald on the pate, Which once had a covering of gold. For his oldest wives won't have white wool, And his young ones won't have red, So, with tearing it out, and taking turn about, They have torn all the hair off his head.