Nancy MacIntyre: A Tale of the Prairies
In the fire of one sweet kiss!

"Zeb, come here, and good old Simon--

Listen while I talk to you;

Put your noses on my shoulder

While I tell you what we'll do.

Your fool master's deep in trouble,

Can't explain to you just how,

But until we find my Nancy,

You shall never pull a plow."

THE SEARCH

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In the West, where twilight glories

Paint with blood each sky-line cloud,

While the virgin rolling prairie

Slowly dons her evening shroud;

While the killdeer plover settles

From its quick and noisy flight;

While the prairie cock is blowing

Warning of the coming night--

There against the fiery background


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