THE BUFFALO HUNTERS
Come all you pretty girls, to you these lines I'll write,
We are going to the range in which we take delight;
We are going on the range as we poor hunters do,
And the tender-footed fellows can stay at home with you.
It's all of the day long as we go tramping round
In search of the buffalo that we may shoot him down;
Our guns upon our shoulders, our belts of forty rounds,
We send them up Salt River to some happy hunting grounds.
Our game, it is the antelope, the buffalo, wolf, and deer,
Who roam the wide prairies without a single fear;
We rob him of his robe and think it is no harm,
To buy us food and clothing to keep our bodies warm.
The buffalo, he is the noblest of the band,
He sometimes rejects in throwing up his hand.
His shaggy main thrown forward, his head raised to the sky,
He seems to say, "We're coming, boys; so hunter, mind your eye."
Our fires are made of mesquite roots, our beds are on the ground;
Our houses made of buffalo hides, we make them tall and round;
Our furniture is the camp kettle, the coffee pot, and pan,
Our chuck it is both bread and meat, mingled well with sand.
Our neighbors are the Cheyennes, the 'Rapahoes, and Sioux,
Their mode of navigation is a buffalo-hide canoe.
And when they come upon you they take you unaware,
And such a peculiar way they have of raising hunter's hair.
THE COWMAN'S PRAYER
Now, O Lord, please lend me thine ear,
The prayer of a cattleman to hear,
No doubt the prayers may seem strange,
But I want you to bless our cattle range.
Bless the round-ups year by year,
And don't forget the growing steer;
Water the lands with brooks and rills
For my cattle that roam on a thousand hills.
Prairie fires, won't you please stop?
Let thunder roll and water drop.
It frightens me to see the smoke;
Unless it's stopped, I'll go dead broke.
As you, O Lord, my herd behold,
It represents a sack of gold;
I think at least five cents a pound
Will be the price of beef the year around.
One thing more and then I'm through,--
Instead of one calf, give my cows two.
I may pray different from other men
But I've had my say, and now, Amen.
HERE'S TO THE RANGER!
He leaves unplowed his furrow,
He leaves his books unread
For a life of tented freedom
By lure of danger led.
He's first in the hour of peril,
He's gayest in the dance,
Like the guardsman of old England
Or the beau sabreur of France.
He stands our faithful bulwark
Against our savage foe;
Through lonely woodland places
Our children come and go;
Our flocks and herds untended
O'er hill and valley roam,
The Ranger in the saddle
Means peace for us at home.
Behold our smiling farmsteads
Where waves the golden grain!
Beneath yon tree, earth's bosom
Was dark with crimson stain.
That bluff the death-shot echoed
Of husband, father, slain!
God grant such sight of horror
We never see again!
The gay and hardy Ranger,
His blanket on the ground,
Lies by the blazing camp-fire
While song and tale goes round;
And if one voice is silent,
One fails to hear the jest,
They know his thoughts are absent
With her who loves him best.
Our state, her sons confess it,
That queenly, star-crowned brow,
Has darkened with the shadow
Of lawlessness ere now;
And men of evil passions
On her reproach have laid,
But that the ready Ranger
Rode promptly to her aid.
He may not win the laurel
Nor trumpet tongue of fame;
But beauty smiles upon him,
And ranchmen bless his name.
Then here's to the Texas Ranger,
Past, present and to come!
Our safety from the savage,
The guardian of our home.
TEXAS RANGERS
Come, all you Texas rangers, wherever you may be,
I'll tell you of some troubles that happened unto me.
My name is nothing extra, so it I will not tell,--
And here's to all you rangers, I am sure I wish you well.
It was at the age of sixteen that I joined the jolly band,
We marched from San Antonio down to the Rio Grande.
Our captain he informed us, perhaps he thought it right,
"Before we reach the station, boys, you'll surely have to fight."
And when the bugle sounded our captain gave command,
"To arms, to arms," he shouted, "and by your horses stand."
I saw the smoke ascending, it seemed to reach the sky;
The first thought that struck me, my time had come to die.
I saw the Indians coming, I heard them give the yell;
My feelings at that moment, no tongue can ever tell.
I saw the glittering lances, their arrows round me flew,
And all my strength it left me and all my courage too.
We fought full nine hours before the strife was o'er,
The like of dead and wounded I never saw before.
And when the sun was rising and the Indians they had fled,
We loaded up our rifles and counted up our dead.
And all of us were wounded, our noble captain slain,
And the sun was shining sadly across the bloody plain.
Sixteen as brave rangers as ever roamed the West
Were buried by their comrades with arrows in their breast.
'Twas then I thought of mother, who to me in tears did say,
"To you they are all strangers, with me you had better stay."
I thought that she was childish, the best she did not know;
My mind was fixed on ranging and I was bound to go.
Perhaps you have a mother, likewise a sister too,
And maybe you have a sweetheart to weep and mourn for you;
If that be your situation, although you'd like to roam,
I'd advise you by experience, you had better stay at home.
I have seen the fruits of rambling, I know its hardships well;
I have crossed the Rocky Mountains, rode down the streets of hell;
I have been in the great Southwest where the wild Apaches roam,
And I tell you from experience you had better stay at home.
And now my song is ended; I guess I have sung enough;
The life of a ranger I am sure is very tough.
And here's to all you ladies, I am sure I wish you well,
I am bound to go a-ranging, so ladies, fare you well.
SIOUX INDIANS
I'll sing you a song, though it may be a sad one,
Of trials and troubles and where they first begun;
I left my dear kindred, my friends, and my home,
Across the wild deserts and mountains to roam.
I crossed the Missouri and joined a large train
Which bore us over mountain and valley and plain;
And often of evenings out hunting we'd go
To shoot the fleet antelope and wild buffalo.
We heard of Sioux Indians all out on the plains
A-killing poor drivers and burning their trains,--
A-killing poor drivers with arrows and bow,
When captured by Indians no mercy they show.
We traveled three weeks till we came to the Platte
And pitched out our tents at the end of the flat,
We spread down our blankets on the green grassy ground,
While our horses and mules were grazing around.
While taking refreshment we heard a low yell,
The whoop of Sioux Indians coming up from the dell;
We sprang to our rifles with a flash in each eye,
"Boys," says our brave leader, "we'll fight till we die."
They made a bold dash and came near to our train
And the arrows fell around us like hail and like rain,
But with our long rifles we fed them cold lead
Till many a brave warrior around us lay dead.
We shot their bold chief at the head of his band.
He died like a warrior with a gun in his hand.
When they saw their bold chief lying dead in his gore,
They whooped and they yelled and we saw them no more.
With our small band,--there were just twenty-four,--
And the Sioux Indians there were five hundred or more,--
We fought them with courage; we spoke not a word,
Till the end of the battle was all that was heard.
We hitched up our horses and we started our train;
Three more bloody battles this trip on the plain;
And in our last battle three of our brave boys fell,
And we left them to rest in a green, shady dell.
THE OLD SCOUT'S LAMENT
Come all of you, my brother scouts,
And join me in my song;
Come, let us sing together
Come all of you, my brother scouts,
And join me in my song;
Come, let us sing together
Though the shadows fall so long.
Of all the old frontiersmen
That used to scour the plain,
There are but very few of them
That with us yet remain.
Day after day they're dropping off,
They're going one by one;
Our clan is fast decreasing,
Our race is almost run.
There were many of our number
That never wore the blue,
But, faithfully, they did their part,
As brave men, tried and true.
But, faithfully, they did their part,
As brave men, tried and true.
They never joined the army,
But had other work to do
In piloting the coming folks,
To help them safely through.
But, brothers, we are falling,
Our race is almost run;
The days of elk and buffalo
And beaver traps are gone.
Oh the days of elk and buffalo
It fills my heart with pain
To know these days are past and gone
To never come again.
We foughtthe red-skin rascals
Over valley, hill, and plain;
We fought him in the mountain top,
And fought him down again.
It fills my heart with pain
To know these days are past and gone
To never come again.
We fought the red-skin rascals
Over valley, hill, and plain;
We fought him in the mountain top,
And fought him down again.
These fighting days are over;
The Indian yell resounds
No more along the border;
Peace sends far sweeter sounds.
But we found great joy, old comrades
To hear, and make it die;
We won bright homes for gentle ones,
And now, our West, good-bye.
But we found great joy, old comrades
To hear, and make it die;
We won bright homes for gentle ones,,
And now, our West, good-bye.
Schutztruppenlied
I am a young rider- in the Kaisers land,
I wear my hat cocked upon my ear, I don’t ask for love and gold
For I have a dashing horse underneath me – and carry a good rifle
Whatever else the heavens might bestow on me – that doesn’t weigh heavily on me
We serve you, dear fatherland, - in Southwest Africa; -
We are called Schutztruppe -- for protection we are here.
No matter how strong the sun burns - on the hot desert sand
We turn down the brim of our hats -- and wander merrily through the land
When we are tormented by thirst, - tormented by hunger, -
We don't take it all so hard; - instead we all think: -
We serve you, dear fatherland, - in Southwest Africa; -
We are called Schutztruppe -- for protection we are here.
And we have so many nights - on foot and also on horseback –
defied sleep and remained faithfully awake, - it never weighed us down. –
For German brothers we do it gladly, - and pride fills our chest, -
For our Kaiser, our Lord; - because we all know: -
We serve you, dear fatherland, - in Southwest Africa; -
We are called Schutztruppe -- for protection we are here.
We have saught out many an ostrich - through bushes and boulders –
With these black devils and colored red their fur.
They took off, we followed them – as far as the sky is blue,
And even if we rarely caught them, they know very well
We serve you, dear fatherland, - in Southwest Africa; -
We are called Schutztruppe -- for protection we are here.
But, oh, many a comrade - in the prime of his life, -
By dareing deed on horseback – he was felled. –
For our kaiser, for our country, he gave his blood
upon his face, so pale as death, we lay down his hat–
We serve you, dear fatherland, - in Southwest Africa; -
We are called Schutztruppe -- for protection we are here.
And when it is our turn -- we remain undaunted
In every battle —Life is risked anew
We fight for German power, for German Glory
We think back to our distant homeland -- faithfully with joy and song
We serve you, dear fatherland, - in Southwest Africa; -
We are called Schutztruoppe- long live, huzzah!