So, loose and light we raced and fought And every range we tasted, But now, since I'm corralled and caught, I know them days were wasted. From now, the all-day gait for me, The trail that's hard but straight for me, For down that trail, who'll wait for me! Ay! them old days were wasted! But though I'm broke, I'll never be A saddle-marked old groaner, For never worthless bronc like me Got such a gentle owner. There could be colt days glad as mine Or outlaw runs as mad as mine Or rope-flung falls as bad as mine, But never such an owner. Lay on the iron, and lay it red! I'll take it kind and clever. Who wouldn't hold a prouder head To wear that mark forever? I'll never break and stray from her; I'd starve and die away from her. Lay on the iron--it's play from her-- And brand me hers forever! A ROUNDUP LULLABY Desert blue and silver in the still moonshine, Coyote yappin' lazy on the hill, Sleepy winks of lightnin' down the far sky line, Time for millin' cattle to be still. _So--o now, the lightnin's far away,_ _The coyote's nothiny skeery;_ _He's singin' to his dearie--_ _Hee--ya, tammalalleday!_ _Settle down, you cattle, till the mornin'._ Nothin' out the hazy range that you folks need, Nothin' we kin see to take your eye. Yet we got to watch you or you'd all stampede, Plungin' down some 'royo bank to die. _So--o, now, for still the shadows stay;_ _The moon is slow and steady;_ _The sun comes when he's ready._ _Hee--ya, tammalalleday!_ _No use runnin' out to meet the mornin'._ Cows and men are foolish when the light grows dim, Dreamin' of a land too far to see. There, you dream, is wavin' grass and streams that brim And it often seems the same to me. _So--o, now, for dreams they never pay._ _The dust it keeps us blinkin',_ _We're seven miles from drinkin'._ _Hee--ya, tammalalleday!_ _But we got to stand it till the mornin'._ Mostly it's a moonlight world our trail winds through. Kaint see much beyond our saddle horns. Always far away is misty silver-blue; Always underfoot it's rocks and thorns. _So--o, now. It must be this away--_ _The lonesome owl a-callin',_ _The mournful coyote squallin'._ _Hee--ya, tammalalleday!_ _Mockin-birds don't sing until the mornin'._ Always seein' 'wayoff dreams of silver-blue, Always feelin' thorns that slab and sting. Yet stampedin' never made a dream come true, So I ride around myself and sing. _So--o, now, a man has got to stay,_ _A-likin' or a-hatin',_ _But workin' on and waitin'._ _Hee--ya, tammalalleday!_ _All of us are waitin' for the mornin'._ THE TRAIL O' LOVE