I just let him keep on settin' All the whole long evenin' through; When he started off I follered, Told him what I meant to do. "Why," says he, "now, don't git foolish; I ain't skeered o' your light breeze; I'll go thar and set by Nancy, Spite o' you, when I blame please." Well, I don't just clear remember All the doin's that took place, But you'll know the story better If you'll look at Johnson's face. As we rode we clinched and wrestled, Then we tumbled to the ground, Tore the bunch grass up, and cactus, For a hundred yards around. 3 Got him down, and in the scrimmage Felt my lasso on the ground, Tied his legs and bent him over, Bound him like he's sittin' down; Hustled quick to mount my pony, Threw the loose end round the horn, Thought I'd learn that Mr. Johnson He'd missed out in bein' born. Then I dragged him on the prairie, Through a Turk's Head cactus bed, Prickly pears and shoestring bushes,-- 'Twasn't decent what he said. He's so dev'lish fond of settin', Thought I'd fix his settin' end So's he'd be more kinder careful Settin' by that girl again. [Illustration: "Then I dragged him on the prairie Through a Turk's Head cactus bed."] THE DISAPPOINTMENT 1 There's a feeling in my bosom, Like a hound that's lost the game, After chasing over bunch grass Till his feet are sore and lame. I am standing by her dug-out, Open stands the sagging door; Every grassblade speaks of Nancy, But she's gone, to come no more. For her father and her mother, And her brothers, late last night, Loaded up their prairie schooner, And vamoosed the ranch, 'fore light. 'Taint no use to stand here cussin', But my heart slumps down like lead When I think of losing Nancy And to know my dreams are dead. 2 It was here I held you, Nancy, When I showed you all my heart; When I told you I would always Be your friend and take your part. Oh, I thought that in life's lottery I had drawn the biggest prize, When I kissed you there that evening And looked down into your eyes; For I never had such feelin's Fill my hide clean through and through Such a hungry, starving longing, To be always close to you. But you've gone with all your family, And I'm left to mourn my loss, While the posse hunts your daddie, 'Cause he stole Bill Kelly's hoss. 3 Now, I don't know where you're roaming, And I don't know where'll you'll land; But I wish you knew my feelin's, And 'twas clear just how I stand: How the good Lord, high in heaven, Put a throbbing heart in here, But it starts to pumping backwards When it feels that you don't keer. I'm a roving old jay-hawker, Never caught like this before, But I'd give my last possession For a glimpse of you once more. If we lose your old fool father Folks 'round here can stand the loss, He was raised in old Missoura, Or he'd never stole that hoss. [Illustration: "I am standing by her dug-out, Open stands the sagging door."] 4