My love was swift and slender As an antelope at play, And her eyes were gray and tender As the east at break o' day, And I sure was shaky hearted And her flower face was pale On that silver night we parted, When I sang along the trail: _Forever--forever--_ _Oh, moon above the pine,_ _Like the matin' birds in Springtime,_ _I will twitter while you shine._ _Rich as ore with gold a-glowin',_ _Sweet as sparklin' springs a-flowin',_ _Strong as redwoods ever growin',_ _So will be this love o' mine._ I rode across the river And beyond the far divide, Till the echo of "forever" Staggered faint behind and died. For the long trail smiled and beckoned And the free wind blowed so sweet, That life's gayest tune, I reckoned, Was my hawse's ringin' feet. _Forever--forever--_ _Oh, stars, look down and sigh,_ _For a poison spring will sparkle_ _And the trustin' drinker die._ _And a rovin' bird will twitter_ _And a worthless rock will glitter_ _And the maiden's love is bitter_ _When the man's is proved a lie._ Last the rover's circle guidin' Brought me where I used to be, And I met her, gaily ridin' With a smarter man than me. Then I raised my dusty cover But she didn't see nor hear, So I hummed the old tune over, Laughin' in my hawse's ear: _If the snowflake specks the desert_ _Or the yucca blooms awhile._ _Ay! what gloom the mountain covers_ _Where the driftin' cloud shade hovers!_ _Ay! the trail o' parted lovers,_ _Where "forever" lasts a mile!_ BACHIN' Our lives are hid; our trails are strange; We're scattered through the West In canyon cool, on blistered range Or windy mountain crest. Wherever Nature drops her ears And bares her claws to scratch, From Yuma to the north frontiers, You'll likely find the bach', You will, The shy and sober bach'! Our days are sun and storm and mist, The same as any life, Except that in our trouble list We never count a wife. Each has a reason why he's lone, But keeps it 'neath his hat; Or, if he's got to tell some one, Confides it to his cat, He does, Just tells it to his cat. We're young or old or slow or fast, But all plumb versatyle. The mighty bach' that fires the blast Kin serve up beans in style. The bach' that ropes the plungin' cows Kin mix the biscuits true-- We earn our grub by drippin' brows And cook it by 'em too, We do, We cook it by 'em too. We like to breathe unbranded air, Be free of foot and mind, And go or stay, or sing or swear, Whichever we're inclined. An appetite, a conscience clear, A pipe that's rich and old Are loves that always bless and cheer And never cry nor scold, They don't. They never cry nor scold.