There's room to stand up in, and listen, And know there's a God overhead. And then, when the summer is coming And the cattle start out on the trails, And you hearken at dawn to the drumming Of prairie-hens down in the swales. Why, Italy simply ain't in it!-- But, Miss, here I'm talking too free. Excuse me; my thoughts for a minute Got sort of the better of me. It was just about Christmas I started; To me, it was only a name Till that day when we met, talked and parted, But since it has not been the same. For you gave me a new kind of notion Of the countries and people and such On the trails that lie over the ocean-- I guess we don't differ so much. And Christmas is chuck full of spirit That everywhere under the sun Warms up anyone who comes near it And fills them with good-will and fun. So I want you to know from this letter That the time by the train wreck with you Made me know all humanity better And like the whole bunch better, too. And I hope, if it seems like presuming That a letter shall come to your door In the land where the roses are blooming From me, on the Tongue's icy shore, You'll forgive, Miss, an uncultured party In the spirit of Christmas, and take These thanks and good wishes, all hearty, From Your most sincere CHEYENNE JAKE. THE COYOTEVILLE PEACE MEETING |WE held a peace convention in Coyoteville last night, A reg'lar Haygue Tribunal fer order, law, an' right, Fer we'd about concluded that fightin' come too free An' municipal conditions wasn't all they ought to be. "Dad" Sykes had been to Denver an' Blake to Omaha, An' they come back a-preachin' of the sights which they had saw, How no one carried weepons an' folks was nice an' mild. An', compared with them there cities, Coyoteville was wild. In Coyoteville the habit of some gentlemen at nights, If they felt in pleasant spirits, was to puncture out the lights. Also, in questions dealin' with a social poker game They was prone to draw their irons an' argue with the same. All which, from "Dad" Sykes' view-point, an' likewise Mister Blake's, Was morally pervertin' an' the biggest of mistakes, Since Coyoteville's best people had begun a-takin' pride In makin' her the model of the cattle-countryside. Therefore, we held a meetin' in the Frou-Frou Dancin' Hall; "Dad" Sykes he played first fiddle an' Blake was there to call-- I mean that Sykes persided an' Billy wrote it down When motions was perpounded on how to run the town. "Bat" Blarcum broached the idee, supported by a speech, That the closin' of the thirst-joints was the only thing would reach, Since liquor bred dissension which only blood could stop As he knew from observation, though he "never touched a drop!" Then Pierpont Robyn Stebbins arose an' begged to say. That the road to civic virtue lay quite another way: