Spoke Charles, "How fast the freezing ice is gathering on my brow!" Young Charlottie then feebly said, "I'm growing warmer now." So on they sped through the frosty air and the glittering cold starlight Until at last the village lights and the ball-room came in sight. They reached the door and Charles sprang out and reached his hands to her. "Why sit you there like a monument that has no power to stir?" He called her once, he called her twice, she answered not a word, And then he called her once again but still she never stirred. He took her hand in his; 'twas cold and hard as any stone. He tore the mantle from her face while cold stars on it shone. Then quickly to the lighted hall her lifeless form he bore;-- Young Charlottie's eyes were closed forever, her voice was heard no more. And there he sat down by her side while bitter tears did flow, And cried, "My own, my charming bride, you nevermore shall know." He twined his arms around her neck and kissed her marble brow, And his thoughts flew back to where she said, "I'm growing warmer now." He took her back into the sleigh and quickly hurried home; When he arrived at her father's door, oh, how her friends did mourn; They mourned the loss of a daughter dear, while Charles wept over the gloom, Till at last he died with the bitter grief,--now they both lie in one tomb. THE SKEW-BALL BLACK It was down to Red River I came, Prepared to play a damned tough game,-- Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa! I crossed the river to the ranch where I intended to work, With a big six-shooter and a derned good dirk,-- Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa! They roped me out a skew-ball black With a double set-fast on his back,-- Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa! And when I was mounted on his back, The boys all yelled, "Just give him slack,"-- Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa! They rolled and tumbled and yelled, by God, For he threw me a-whirling all over the sod,-- Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa! I went to the boss and I told him I'd resign, The fool tumbled over, and I thought he was dyin',-- Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa! And it's to Arkansaw I'll go back, To hell with Texas and the skew-ball black,-- Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa! THE RAMBLING COWBOY There was a rich old rancher who lived in the country by, He had a lovely daughter on whom I cast my eye; She was pretty, tall, and handsome, both neat and very fair, There's no other girl in the country with her I could compare. I asked her if she would be willing for me to cross the plains; She said she would be truthful until I returned again; She said she would be faithful until death did prove unkind, So we kissed, shook hands, and parted, and I left my girl behind.