We used to run a cow-ranch,In all that old term meant,But all our ancient gloriesIn recent years have went;We’re takin’ summer boarders,And, puttin’ it quite rude,It’s now the cowboy’s provinceTo herd the festive dude.
The Dude Ranch, st. 1
Out where the handclasp's a little stronger, Out where the smile dwells a little longer, That's where the West begins.Arthur Chapman
Out where the handclasp’s a little stronger,Out where the smile dwells a little longer,That’s where the West begins.Arthur Chapman
He is the last of that old guard defending Cattle Land,Those knights who jousted for the cause — blood brothers of the brand;But now they’ve fenced the water-hole, they’re harrowing the plain,They’re changing all the sagebrush flats to fields of waving grain;The cowmen will be gone, they say, and there are no recruits —Good-bye, brave cattle-puncher in the high-heeled boots!Arthur Chapman
There ain't no leaves to turn to gold—There ain't a tree in sight—In other ways the herder's toldOctober's come, all right.Arthur Chapman