Various - Cowboy Songs, and Other Frontier Ballads стр 5.

Come all you jolly cowmen, don't you want to go
Way up on the Kansas line?
Where you whoop up the cattle from morning till night
All out in the midnight rain.

The cowboy's life is a dreadful life,
He's driven through heat and cold;
I'm almost froze with the water on my clothes,
A-ridin' through heat and cold.

I've been where the lightnin', the lightnin' tangled in my eyes,
The cattle I could scarcely hold;
Think I heard my boss man say:
"I want all brave-hearted men who ain't afraid to die
To whoop up the cattle from morning till night,
Way up on the Kansas line."

Speaking of your farms and your shanty charms,
Speaking of your silver and gold,
Take a cowman's advice, go and marry you a true and lovely little wife,
Never to roam, always stay at home;
That's a cowman's, a cowman's advice,
Way up on the Kansas line.

Think I heard the noisy cook say,
"Wake up, boys, it's near the break of day,"
Way up on the Kansas line,
And slowly we will rise with the sleepy feeling eyes,
Way up on the Kansas line.

The cowboy's life is a dreary, dreary life,
All out in the midnight rain;
I'm almost froze with the water on my clothes,
Way up on the Kansas line.

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.

In a rusty, worn-out cabin sat a broken-hearted leaser,
His singlejack was resting on his knee.
His old "buggy" in the corner told the same old plaintive tale,
His ore had left in all his poverty.
He lifted his old singlejack, gazed on its battered face,
And said: "Old boy, I know we're not to blame;
Our gold has us forsaken, some other path it's taken,
But I still believe we'll strike it just the same.

"We'll strike it, yes, we'll strike it just the same,
Although it's gone into some other's claim.
My dear old boy don't mind it, we won't starve if we don't find it,
And we'll drill and shoot and find it just the same.

"For forty years I've hammered steel and tried to make a strike,
I've burned twice the powder Custer ever saw.
I've made just coin enough to keep poorer than a snake.
My jack's ate all my books on mining law.
I've worn gunny-sacks for overalls, and 'California socks,'
I've burned candles that would reach from here to Maine,
I've lived on powder, smoke, and bacon, that's no lie, boy, I'm not fakin',
But I still believe we'll strike it just the same.

"Last night as I lay sleeping in the midst of all my dream
My assay ran six ounces clear in gold,
And the silver it ran clean sixteen ounces to the seam,
And the poor old miner's joy could scarce be told.
I lay there, boy, I could not sleep, I had a feverish brow,
Got up, went back, and put in six holes more.
And then, boy, I was chokin' just to see the ground I'd broken;
But alas! alas! the miner's dream was o'er.

"We'll strike it, yes, we'll strike it just the same,
Although it's gone into some other's claim.
My dear old boy, don't mind it, we won't starve if we don't find it,
And I still believe I'll strike it just the same."

Jesse James was a lad that killed a-many a man;
He robbed the Danville train.
But that dirty little coward that shot Mr. Howard
Has laid poor Jesse in his grave.

Poor Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life,
Three children, they were brave.
But that dirty little coward that shot Mr. Howard
Has laid poor Jesse in his grave.

It was Robert Ford, that dirty little coward,
I wonder how he does feel,
For he ate of Jesse's bread and he slept in Jesse's bed,
Then laid poor Jesse in his grave.

Jesse was a man, a friend to the poor,
He never would see a man suffer pain;
And with his brother Frank he robbed the Chicago bank,
And stopped the Glendale train.

It was his brother Frank that robbed the Gallatin bank,
And carried the money from the town;
It was in this very place that they had a little race,
For they shot Captain Sheets to the ground.

They went to the crossing not very far from there,
And there they did the same;
With the agent on his knees, he delivered up the keys
To the outlaws, Frank and Jesse James.

It was on Wednesday night, the moon was shining bright,
They robbed the Glendale train;
The people they did say, for many miles away,
It was robbed by Frank and Jesse James.

It was on Saturday night, Jesse was at home
Talking with his family brave,
Robert Ford came along like a thief in the night
And laid poor Jesse in his grave.

The people held their breath when they heard of Jesse's death,
And wondered how he ever came to die.
It was one of the gang called little Robert Ford,
He shot poor Jesse on the sly.

Jesse went to his rest with his hand on his breast;
The devil will be upon his knee.
He was born one day in the county of Clay
And came from a solitary race.

This song was made by Billy Gashade,
As soon as the news did arrive;
He said there was no man with the law in his hand
Who could take Jesse James when alive.

I ain't got no father,
I ain't got no father,
I ain't got no father,
To buy the clothes I wear.

I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy,
I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy,
I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy
And a long ways from home.

I ain't got no mother,
I ain't got no mother,
I ain't got no mother
To mend the clothes I wear.

I ain't got no sister,
I ain't got no sister,
I ain't got no sister
To go and play with me.

I ain't got no brother,
I ain't got no brother,
I ain't got no brother
To drive the steers with me.

I ain't got no sweetheart,
I ain't got no sweetheart,
I ain't got no sweetheart
To sit and talk with me.

I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy,
I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy,
I'm a poor, lonesome cowboy
And a long ways from home.