_Shinin' dobe fire-place, shadows on the wall (See old Shorty's friv'lous toes a-twitchin' at the call:) It's the best grand high that there is within the law When seven jolly punchers tackle "Turkey in the Straw."_ Freezy was the day's ride, lengthy was the trail, Ev'ry steer was haughty with a high-arched tail, But we held 'em and we shoved 'em for our longin' hearts were tried By a yearnin' for tobaccer and our dear fireside. _Swing 'er into stop-time, don't you let 'er droop (You're about as tuneful as a coyote with the croup!) Ay, the cold wind bit when we drifted down the draw, But we drifted on to comfort and to "Turkey in the Straw."_ Snarlin' when the rain whipped, cussin' at the ford-- Ev'ry mile of twenty was a long discord, But the night is brimmin' music and its glory is complete When the eye is razzle-dazzled by the flip o' Shorty's feet! _Snappy for the dance, now, till she up and shoots! (Don't he beat the devil's wife for jiggin' in his boots?) Shorty got throwed high and we laughed till he was raw, But tonight he's done forgot it prancin' "Turkey in the Straw."_ Rainy dark or firelight, bacon rind or pie, Livin' is a luxury that don't come high; Oh, be happy and onruly while our years and luck allow, For we all must die or marry less than forty years from now! _Lively on the last turn! Lope'er to the death! (Reddy's soul is willin' but he's gettin' short o' breath.) Ay, the storm wind sings and old trouble sucks his paw When we have an hour of firelight set to "Turkey in the Straw."_ _Charles Badger Clark._ THE COWBOY'S DANCE SONG YOU can't expect a cowboy to agitate his shanks In etiquettish manner in aristocratic ranks When he's always been accustomed to shake the heel and toe At the rattling rancher dances where much etiquet don't go. You can bet I set them laughing in quite an excited way, A-giving of their squinters an astonished sort of play, When I happened into Denver and was asked to take a prance In the smooth and easy mazes of a high-toned dance. When I got among the ladies in their frocks of fleecy white, And the dudes togged out in wrappings that were simply out of sight, Tell you what, I was embarrassed, and somehow I couldn't keep From feeling like a burro in a pretty flock of sheep. Every step I made was awkward and I blushed a fiery red Like the principal adornment of a turkey gobbler's head. The ladies said 'twas seldom that they had had the chance To see an old-time puncher at a high-toned dance.