I got the jab in my rough ol' heart, an' I got it a-plenty, too, A center shot from a pair o' eyes of the winninest sort o' blue, An' I ride the ranges a-sighin' sighs, as cranky as a locoed steer-- A durned heap worse than the novel blokes that the narrative gals'd queer. Just hain't no energy left no mo', go 'round like a orphant calf A-thinkin' about that sagehen's eyes that give me the Cupid gaff, An' I'm all skeered up when I hit the thought some other rider might Cut in ahead on a faster hoss an' rope her afore my sight. There ain't a heifer that ever run in the feminine beauty herd Could switch a tail on the whole durned range 'long-side o' that little bird; A figger plump as a prairy dog's that's feedin' on new spring grass, An' as purty a face as was ever flashed in front of a lookin' glass. She's got a smile that 'd raise the steam in the icyist sort o' heart, A couple o' soul inspirin' eyes, an' the nose that keeps 'em apart Is the cutest thing in the sassy line that ever occurred to act As a ornament stuck on a purty face, an' that's a dead open fact. I'm a-goin' to brace her by an' by to see if there's any hope, To see if she's liable to shy when I'm ready to pitch the rope; To see if she's goin' to make a stand, or fly like a skeered up dove When I make a pass with the brandin' iron that's het in the fire o' love. I'll open the little home corral an' give her the level hunch To make a run fur the open gate when I cut her out o' the bunch, Fur there ain't no sense in a-jammin' round with a heart that's as soft as dough An' a-throwin' the breath o' life away bunched up into sighs. Heigh-ho! _James Barton Adams._ THE COWBOY AND THE MAID FUNNY how it come about! Me and Texas Tom was out Takin' of a moonlight walk, Fillin' in the time with talk. Every star up in the sky Seemed to wink the other eye At each other, 'sif they Smelt a mouse around our way! Me and Tom had never grew Spoony like some couples do; Never billed and cooed and sighed; He was bashful like and I'd Notions of my own that it Wasn't policy to git Too abundant till I'd got Of my feller good and caught. As we walked along that night He got talkin' of the bright Prospects that he had, and I Somehow felt, I dunno why, That a-fore we cake-walked back To the ranch he'd make a crack Fer my hand, and I was plum Achin' fer the shock to come. By and by he says, "I've got Fifty head o' cows, and not One of 'em but, on the dead, Is a crackin' thoroughbred. Got a daisy claim staked out, And I'm thinkin' it's about Time fer me to make a shy At a home." "O Tom!" says I.