Now, the oldest wives sing songs all day, And the young ones all sing songs; And amongst such a crowd he has it pretty loud,-- They're as noisy as Chinese gongs. And when they advance for a Mormon dance He is filled with the direst alarms; For they are sure to end the night in a tabernacle fight To see who has the fairest charms. Now, if any man here envies Brigham Young Let him go to the Great Salt Lake; And if he has the leisure to enjoy his pleasure, He'll find it a great mistake. One wife at a time, so says my rhyme, Is enough,--there's no denial;-- So, before you strive to be lord of forty-five, Take two for a month on trial. THE OLD GRAY MULE I am an old man some sixty years old And that you can plain-li see, But when I was a young man ten years old They made a stable boy of me. I have seen the fastest horses That made the fastest time, But I never saw one in all my life Like that old gray mule of mine. On a Sunday morn I dress myself, A-goin' out to ride; Now, my old mule is as gray as a bird, Then he is full of his pride. He never runs away with you, Never cuts up any shine; For the only friend I have on earth Is this old gray mule of mine. Now my old gray mule is dead and gone, Gone to join the heavenly band, With silver shoes upon his feet To dance on the golden strand. THE FOOLS OF FORTY-NINE When gold was found in forty-eight the people thought 'twas gas, And some were fools enough to think the lumps were only brass. But soon they all were satisfied and started off to mine; They bought their ships, came round the Horn, in the days of forty-nine. Refrain: Then they thought of what they'd been told When they started after gold,-- That they never in the world would make a pile. The people all were crazy then, they didn't know what to do. They sold their farms for just enough to pay their passage through. They bid their friends a long farewell, said, "Dear wife, don't you cry, I'll send you home the yellow lumps a piano for to buy." The poor, the old, and the rotten scows were advertised to sail From New Orleans with passengers, but they must pump and bail. The ships were crowded more than full, and some hung on behind, And others dived off from the wharf and swam till they were blind. With rusty pork and stinking beef and rotten, wormy bread! The captains, too, that never were up as high as the main mast head! The steerage passengers would rave and swear that they'd paid their passage And wanted something more to eat beside bologna sausage. They then began to cross the plain with oxen, hollowing "haw." And steamers then began to run as far as Panama. And there for months the people staid, that started after gold, And some returned disgusted with the lies that had been told.