Three years passed on without any news. One day as she stood by the door A beggar passed by with a patch on his eye, "I'm home, oh, do pity, my love; Have compassion on me, your friend I will be. Your fortune I'll tell besides. The lad you mourn will never return To make little Mary his bride." She startled and trembled and then she did say, "All the fortune I have I freely give If what I ask you will tell unto me,-- Say, does young William yet live?" "He lives and is true and poverty poor, And shipwreck has suffered beside; He'll return no more, because he is poor, To make little Mary his bride." "No tongue can tell the joy I do feel Although his misfortune I mourn, And he's welcome to me though poverty poor, His jacket all tattered and torn. I love him so dear, so true and sincere, I'll have no other beside; Those with riches enrobed and covered with gold Can't make little Mary their bride." The beggar then tore the patch from his eye, His crutches he laid by his side, Coat, jacket and bundle; cheeks red as a rose, 'Twas William that stood by her side. "Then excuse me, dear maid," to her he said, "It was only your love I tried." So he hastened away at the close of the day To make little Mary his bride. MUSTANG GRAY There once was a noble ranger, They called him Mustang Gray; He left his home when but a youth, Went ranging far away. But he'll go no more a-ranging, The savage to affright; He has heard his last war-whoop, And fought his last fight. He ne'er would sleep within a tent, No comforts would he know; But like a brave old Tex-i-an, A-ranging he would go. When Texas was invaded By a mighty tyrant foe, He mounted his noble war-horse And a-ranging he did go. Once he was taken prisoner, Bound in chains upon the way, He wore the yoke of bondage Through the streets of Monterey. A senorita loved him, And followed by his side; She opened the gates and gave to him Her father's steed to ride. God bless the senorita, The belle of Monterey, She opened wide the prison door And let him ride away. And when this veteran's life was spent, It was his last command To bury him on Texas soil On the banks of the Rio Grande; And there the lonely traveler, When passing by his grave, Will shed a farewell tear O'er the bravest of the brave. And he'll go no more a-ranging, The savage to affright; He has heard his last war-whoop, And fought his last fight. YOUNG COMPANIONS Come all you young companions And listen unto me, I'll tell you a story Of some bad company. I was born in Pennsylvania Among the beautiful hills And the memory of my childhood Is warm within me still. I did not like my fireside, I did not like my home; I had in view far rambling, So far away did roam.