Through a Turk's Head cactus bed,

Prickly pears and shoestring bushes,--

'Twasn't decent what he said.

He's so dev'lish fond of settin',

Thought I'd fix his settin' end

So's he'd be more kinder careful

Settin' by that girl again.

THE DISAPPOINTMENT

1  

There's a feeling in my bosom,

Like a hound that's lost the game,

After chasing over bunch grass

Till his feet are sore and lame.

I am standing by her dug-out,

Open stands the sagging door;

Every grassblade speaks of Nancy,

But she's gone, to come no more.

For her father and her mother,

And her brothers, late last night,

Loaded up their prairie schooner,

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