Ride? Why, she can cut a critter From the herd as neat as pie, Read a brand out on the ranges Just as well as you or I. Ain't much yet with the riata, But you give her a few years And no puncher with the outfit Will beat her a-ropin' steers. Proud o' her? Say, lemme tell you, She's the queen of all the range; Got a grip upon our heart-strings Mighty strong, but that ain't strange; 'Cause she loves the lowin' cattle, Loves the hills and open air, Dusty trails on blossomed canons God has strung around out here. Hoof-beats poundin' down the mesa, Chicken-time in lively tune, Jest below the trail to Keeber's,-- Wait, you'll see her pretty soon. You kin bet I know that ridin',-- Now she's toppin' yonder swell. Thar she is; that's her a-smilin' At the bars of the corral. _Anonymous._ I WANT MY TIME I'M night guard all alone tonight, Dead homesick, lonely, tired and blue; And none but you can make it right; My heart is hungry, Girl, for you. I've longed all night to hug you, Dear; To speak my love I'm at a loss. But just as soon as daylight's here I'm goin' straight to see the boss. "How long's the round-up goin' to run? Another week, or maybe three? Give me my time, then, I am done. No, I'm not sick. Three weeks? Oh gee!" I know, though, when I've had enough. I will not work,--darned if I will. I'm goin' to quit, and that's no bluff. Say, gimme some tobacco, Bill. _Anonymous._ WHO'S THAT CALLING SO SWEET? THE herds are gathered in from plain and hill, Who's that a-calling? The boys are sleeping and the boys are still, Who's that a-calling? 'Twas the wind a-sighing in the prairie grass, Who's that a-calling? Or wild birds singing overhead as they pass. Who's that a-calling? Making heart and pulse to beat. No, no, it wasn't earthly sound I heard, Who's that a-calling? It was no sigh of breeze or song of bird, Who's that a-calling? For the tone I heard was softer far than these, that a-calling? 'Twas loved ones' voices from far off across the seas _Deveen._ SONG OF THE CATTLE TRAIL THE dust hangs thick upon the trail And the horns and the hoofs are clashing, While off at the side through the chaparral The men and the strays go crashing; But in right good cheer the cowboy sings, For the work of the fall is ending, And then it's ride for the old home ranch Where a maid love's light is tending. Then it's crack! crack! crack! On the beef steer's back, And it's run, you slow-foot devil; For I'm soon to turn back where through the black Love's lamp gleams along the level.