He's trailed them far o'er the trackless range, Has this knight of the saddle leather; He has risked his life in the mad stampede, And has breasted all kinds of weather. But now is the end of the trail in sight, And the hours on wings are sliding; For it's back to the home and the only girl When the foreman O K's the option. Then it's quirt! quirt! quirt! And it's run or git hurt, You hang-back, bawling critter. For a man who's in love with a turtle dove Ain't got no time to fritter. _Anonymous._ A COWBOY'S SON WHAR y'u from, little stranger, little boy? Y'u was ridin' a cloud on that star-strewn plain, But y'u fell from the skies like a drop of rain To this world of sorrow and long, long pain. Will y'u care fo' yo' mothah, little boy? When y'u grows, little varmint, little boy, Y'u'll be ridin' a hoss by yo' fathah's side With yo' gun and yo' spurs and yo' howstrong pride. Will y'u think of yo' home when the world rolls wide? Will y'u wish for yo' mothah, little boy? When y'u love in yo' manhood, little boy,-- When y'u dream of a girl who is angel fair,-- When the stars are her eyes and the wind is her hair,-- When the sun is her smile and yo' heaven's there,-- Will y'u care for yo' mothah, little boy? _Pocock in "Curley."_ A COWBOY SONG I COULD not be so well content, So sure of thee, Senorita, But well I know you must relent And come to me, Lolita! The Caballeros throng to see Thy laughing face, Senorita, Lolita. But well I know thy heart's for me, Thy charm, thy grace, Lolita! I ride the range for thy dear sake, To earn thee gold, Senorita, Lolita; And steal the gringo's cows to make A ranch to hold Lolita! _Pocock in "Curley."_ A NEVADA COWPUNCHER TO HIS BELOVED LONESOME? Well, I guess so! This place is mighty blue; The silence of the empty rooms Jes' palpitates with--you. The day has lost its beauty, The sun's a-shinin' pale; I'll round up my belongin's An' I guess I'll hit the trail. Out there in the sage-brush A-harkin' to the "Coo-oo" Of the wild dove in his matin' I can think alone of you. Perhaps a gaunt coyote Will go a-lopin' by An' linger on the mountain ridge An' cock his wary eye. An' when the evenin' settles, A-waitin' for the dawn Perhaps I'll hear the ground owl: "She's gone--she's gone--she's gone!" _Anonymous._ THE COWBOY TO HIS FRIEND IN NEED YOU'RE very well polished, I'm free to confess, Well balanced, well rounded, a power for right; But cool and collected,--no steel could be less; You're primed for continual fight.