WBu LAGK. HILLS ^LADS Class ^fS 3 .$&£ Copyright N?.- C0PYR1GHT DEPOSrT co\A_ BLACK HILLS BALLADS JSnhert V. (Earr fe> ultje l&teb JJublialjttuj (Horn patty 1002 IHfc LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Two Copies Received '^^i JAN 8 1903 CopyngfU Entry CLASS CL XXc. No. /f«»^ 14- L> t L t COPY 8. COPYRIGHT, 1902 in Robert H. (Harr All Rights Reserved 1 • • ••• •' • • » PRESS OF Q% 58??& JJubltHljtttg (dnrnpany DENVER s ^ Er&uattmt TO THE PEOPLE OF THE BLACK HILLS OF SOUTH DAKOTA THIS VOLUME IS MOST SINCERELY DEDICATED WITH THE HOPE THAT THEY MAY FIND AS MUCH JOY IN THE READING AS THE AUTHOR HAS FOUND IN THE WRITING. Autljor'a Kot? The poems contained in this volume have appeared in Collie/s Weekly, Overland Monthly, The Dakotan, Chicago Post, Sioux City Journal, St. Paul Dispatch, Deadwood Pioneer-Times, Cripple Creek Star and the Denver Times. To the editors of these publications, who have assisted me in gathering my scattered stalks of poesy into a single sheaf, I am greatly indebted. Robert V. Carr. Whitewood, S. D., November, 1902. (EfltttnttB PART I PAGE Little Feller — Child of the Sunset Country 13 Kick of the Ranch Hand 17 Baldy Joe's Simple Little Rhyme 19 Love of Bill Haines 22 A Matter of Opinion 25 Cowboy's Salvation Song 27 Dance, You Punchers, Dance 29 Loafin' Time 3 1 Fishin' in th' Shade 3 2 Springtime on th' Range 34 The Light of the Smiles in Her Eyes 36 Yes, Ma She Cried 38 A Word From the Old Prospector 4° When Dutch y Plays the Mouth Harp 42 The Don't Care Man 44 Almos' Time fer Fishin' 46 When a Man Has Money 47 Fer I'm a Boy 49 A Feller Git's Dreamy Once in a While 5° You'd Better Learn How 5 2 Lullaby in Hesperia 54 An Eastern Farmer in the Black Hills 56 Cowboy's Trail-Song 58 Partiality 59 Down at Haller's Dancin' 61 O CONTENTS PAGE Romance of the Range 63 She Tamed Him 65 Let's Quit Quarrelin' fer Awhile 67 The Kind He Wanted 68 When It's Gittin' Plantin' Time 70 In Search of Local Color 72 Out West 74 Time's Heavy Hand 75 Let's Go Back yy This Meller Autumn Weather 79 Holoway 81 Not Built that Way 83 Them White Fairees 84 A Westerner's Lament 86 Homesickness 88 The Way of the Regular 91 Makers of Men 94 The Roses the Florist Don't Keep 97 When She Goes to Git th' Mail 99 You'd Better Keep A-Smilin' 102 PART II Dawn in the Black Hills 105 The Pines Sing Wild and the Winds Are Free. .106 On the Trail to Sleepyville 108 Green Prairies no June in the Hills in Silhouette in Sepia 113 Welcome, Miss May 114 Flood-Song of the Mountains 115 Legend of the Chinook 116 Ah, There, Miss Violet 117 The Shameless Stream 118 CONTENTS 7 PAGE Prairie Wolves 120 The Rattlesnake 121 March on the Plains 122 The Western Trail 123 Silences of the Night 124 Honolulu 125 Just for You 126 Pictures Three 128 PART III The Songs I'd Like to Sing 131 The Good in Sorrow 133 When She Plays 135 The Doom of the Loiterer 137 The Welcome One 138 The Best 139 Tears 141 To the Only One 144 The Coat in the Pawnshop Door 146 You Went Away 148 Just Yesterday 149 Dreams You Dream 151 The World's Desire 153 Thy Voice 154 Her Eyes 155 The Roses of Love 157 I Have Sang to Thee, Love 159 Perhaps 160 A Song of Hope 161 Sister Mine 162 Onjinjintka 164 To a Manila Mestiza 168 Story of Little Feller 169 BLACK HILLS BALLADS PART I LITTLE FELLER ; CHILD OF THE SUNSET COUNTRY I. Little Feller, do you know, That your daddy loves you so That if harm would come to you, If they'd close them eyes o' blue, If I heerd your steps no more, Makin' music on th' floor, Guess I'd want 'em take me, too, Right along, my boy, with you? That's th' way your daddy feels, Nothin' like it e'er appeals To his heart an' makes it ache, When he thinks some one might take You, my lad, up there-away, Where th' time is allers day ; An' I thinks if that's to be, They've jes' gotter to take me. 14 BLACK HILLS BALLADS Little Feller, come here now, Tell your daddy when an' how That they give to you, my boy, Secrets of jes' makin' joy. Huh! you wanter kiss your dad? Say, you're gittin' quite a lad; 'Spects some day you'll be like paw, Now skip out an' kiss your maw. II. He's his pappy' s boy, you bet! Never seen a youngun yet That could beat that little cuss — Land o' Lawdy ! What a fuss ! Playin' hoss an' prancin' round, Rollin', kickin' on th' ground — Say, young feller, seems to me That you're gittin' rollicky; Guess bin better if you had Bin a little less like dad. Sez he wants a buckin' hoss, An' a cow outfit to boss; Sez he wants a six-gun, too ; Don't know what I'm goin' to do If that boy keeps thatoway; Tho' I'll swear I'll have to say LITTLE FELLER I 5 That there youngun on th' ground Jes' makes pappy stand eround. 'Cause he's all I ever had, An' exactly like his dad. III. Little Feller's gone, I know, Yet it seems to me as tho' I can hear him callin' clear Fer his daddy to come here, Jes' to see th' house he's built Out o' mammy's crazy quilt. Little Feller's gone, I know, Went about a year ago; Yet it seems I can't ferget, Fer I feel his kisses yet, Hear his voice a-tellin' glad How he's lovin' of his dad ; See him playin' hoss agin, Jes' th' same as I did th'n. Little Feller's gone, I know, All th' minits tell me so; Tho' sometimes I think an' smile, He's a-vis'tin' fer awhile, Jes' a-vis'tin' in th' sky, To be with us by an' by. l6 BLACK HILLS BALLADS Then his mammy sees my eyes, An' she goes — away — an' — cries— An', to tell th' truth, I do Wish that I might jes' cry, too. Little Feller's gone, I know, Where we hope some day to go, Me an' mammy — heart-broke pair- An' find Little Feller there. KICK OF THE RANCH HAND 17 KICK OF THE RANCH HAND Dern my hide, I feel so lazy, Feel so stretchy, feel so dazy, When th' ole, red day is dawnin', An' I'm layin' here an' yawnin', Thinkin' if I had a doller, Like to see th' man who'd holler, Or even dare to whisp'rin' say : "Git up, Jim, don't sleep all day." What man is there in this land, Has th' trubbles of a hand? Go to bed at dark an' more, You git up at half-past four ; An' you pail 'bout forty-six Gosh-blamed cow-brutes an' th' tricks That they play an' put on you, Jes' would make an angel stew. Honestly, I git so mad That sometimes I wish I had l8 BLACK HILLS BALLADS Power to jes' make one swipe, An' ev'ry kickin' cow-brute wipe Off this whirlin', jiggy earth, Fer 'twould give me scads of mirth. Honestly, I know it would Do me jes' a sight of good. An' there's th' pigs to slop an' feed, Give th' hosses what they need; See th' chickins all are fed, An' th' pigins overhead. An' there's water fer to bring, From that singy-songy spring; An' there's wood to chop — an' all This is done 'fore breakfast call. Then you hook th' plow team on, An' go stragglin' thro' th' dawn; Work an' work an' sweat all day, Work an' work an' work away. Dern my hide I feel so lazy, Feel so stretchy, feel so dazy, An' th' ole red day is dawnin', An' I'm layin' here an' ya-a-a-aw — nin' BALDY JOE'S SIMPLE LITTLE RHYME 19 BALDY JOE'S SIMPLE LITTLE RHYME Oh, I know an ole cowpuncher, an' they call him Baldy Joe, B' cause his hair is somethin' that is absent, don't you know; An' he sits up in th' saddle, sort o' lives there all th' time, An' a-hummin' an a-hummin' this here simple little rhyme: There hain't no sense Like a logie fer to sit, 'Cause you think you hain't a-gittin' What you think you orter git. So it's quit your jawin', Keep a-cinchin' up your grip, An' brace yourself an' allers Keep a tight rein on your lip. Joe is a queerish critter, he's a mighty funny man; Never has a speck o' trouble, an' you never, never can 20 BLACK HILLS BALLADS Hear him kickiiv or complaining 'cause he's happy all the time — Jes' a-huniniin' an' a-hummin' this here simple little rhyme : There hain't no sense Like a logie fer to sit, 'Cause you think you hain't a-gittin' What you think you orter git. So it's quit your jawin', Keep a-cinchin' up your grip, An' brace yourself an' allers Keep a tight rein on your lip. Bin a-thinkin' an' a-thinkin' if th' world was fashioned so, 'Twould tally with th' hummin' of that happy feller Joe ; She'd be a blamed sight better, git some better all th' time, 'Cause there's a scad o' boss sense in his simple little rhyme: There hain't no sense Like a logie fer to sit, 'Cause you think you hain't a-gittin' What you think you orter git. BALDY JOE'S SIMPLE LITTLE RHYME 21 So it's quit your jawin', Keep a-cinchin' up your grip, An' brace yourself an' allers Keep a tight rein on your lip. 22 BLACK HILLS BALLADS LOVE OF BILL HAINES Uster be that he lived back in them Hills we call th' Black; was th' kindest sort o' cuss you'd want a-see; An' he'd no known relation in th' wide, wide creation, an' he didn't know nobody 'cep- tin' me. He'd a cabin on th' crick where th' spruces growed that thick, you could camp down underneadst 'em when it rains, An' be all snug- an' dry, sure enuff, it weren't no lie; I learnt it from conversin' with Bill Haines. Ole Bill Haines — th' feller lived an' he panned an' dug an' dived in th' gravel of th' Big Bernanza Bar; Never'd leave th' camp to rub up aginst th' town 'cept grub was gittin' down to bed- rock in th' jar, Then he'd take a flour sack an' go trailin' down th' track an' suddin into town a-walkin' come, LOVE OF BILL HAINES 23 An' buy a slab o' meat an' some other truck to eat an' then about as suddin hit fer home. Knowed Ole Bill fer many years — loved him, too — an' say th' tears sort o' sluiced up in my eyes one winter day, When I comes into his shack an' see him layin' back with a rippin' case of that new- mown-nee-a. Bin rarin' 'round all night an' his eyes were shinin' bright, an' he didn't seem to know me, sure he did; Tho' I did th' best I could, it didn't do no good, fer Bill was booked fer slidin' an' he slid. Stayed by him thro' thick an' thin, but no use an' then agin, he was a-sort o' pinin' thatoway, Fer he had a lock o' hair, underneadst his pillow there, that he'd kiss about a thousand times a day. "Meet me there," he'd say an' sigh, "I'll be with you by an' by, an' I'll never, no I'll never go away, An' our troubles '11 be o'er an' we'll laugh fer- ever more," them's th' words that he would mumble night an' day. 24 BLACK HILLS BALLADS An' that's th' way that Bill carried on until, until one night he sort o' looked up, smiled, an* said: "Meet me there, my little one," an' right there Ole Bill was done, an' th' shack seemed sort o' lonely with th' dead. Laid th' blanket o'er his face an' went out to breathe a space, an' git that 'culiar feelin' out my throat, Fer I loved ole, quiet Bill an' I'll love th' ole man 'til my notice in th' Great Camp's plainly wrote. Planted him above th' bars where th' everlastin' stars an' th' pines kin sort o' watch him in his rest, An' sing so soft an' low, 'bout th' gal he worked fer so an' toiled an' slaved an' died fer in th' West. Fer it is th' story old that he'd find a mine o' gold, come back to her an' see her smilin' fine, "Meet me there," he'd say an' sigh, "I'll be with you by an' by, an' bring a heap o' gold fer sweetheart mine." A MATTER OF OPINION 25 A MATTER OF OPINION If you ever stop over At Happy-go-ville — Ten miles from th' railroad An' quiet an' still, With a little postofnce An' store all in one Where all th' camp's tradin' An' dickerin's done — You'll find Ole Joe Felton A-hangin' 'round there. Like enuff on th' storestep En joy in' the air, An' cashully puffin' A pipe o' small size, Whilst tellin' us fellers Some fictitious lies. Joe Felton — Ole Joe — Well, say I don't know, But what a great awthur Was lost in Ole Joe, For I'd jes' as soon lis'n, Nor give seven darns, 26 BLACK HILLS BALLADS All day to Joe Felton, A-spinnin' his yarns. Some say he's untruthful, Well, what if he is? They're good healthy lies, Be them lies o' his; An' you might as well say Them awthurs an' such, Hain't fur behind Joseph So overly much. They've jes' got a lie-sunce Fer lyin', that's all, While Joe hain't got nuthin' 'Cept natural born gall, Or a gift I would say Of tellin' a thing, 'Til it sounds with th' clearest True honesty ring. Joe Felton — Ole Joe — Well, say I don't know, But what a great awthur Was lost in Ole Joe; Fer I'd jes' as soon lis'n, Nor give seven darns, All day to Joe Felton, A-spinnin' his yarns. cowboy's salvation song 27 COWBOY'S SALVATION SONG Oh, it's move along, you dogies, don't be driftin' by th' way, Fer there's goin' to be a round-up an' a cuttiri- out they say, Of all th' devil's dogies an' a movin' at sunrise, An' you'd better be preparin' fer a long drive to th' skies. Oh, it's move along, you dogies, don't be driftin' by th' way, Fer th' boss of all th' rus'lers is a-comin' 'round to-day. So you'd better be a-movin', throw your dust right in his eyes, An' hit th' trail a-flyin' fer th' home-ranch in th' skies. So it's move along, you dogies, fer th' devil has in hand A bunch of red-hot irons an' he's surely goin' to brand 28 BLACK HILLS BALLADS All his dogies, an' some others, an' mighty. suddin, too, So you'd better be a-movin' so he won't be brandin' you. So it's move along, you dogies, tho' you have th' mange o' sin, There's a range you're sure to shake it when you come a-trailin' in, Where th' grass is allers growin' an' th' water's allers pure, So it's move along, you dogies, 'fore th' devil brands you sure. DANCE, YOU PUNCHERS, DANCE 29 DANCE, YOU PUNCHERS, DANCE Oh, whoop it up an' let's be gay, It's a long time now 'til break o' day ; So fer a good time git a hunch, An' cut your gal from out th' bunch — An' say — You may Start them fiddles right away, An' Jiggin' Finn With his 'cor-din' Will do th' rest, so all join in, An' pound th' floor with your high-heeled boot. An' swing your granger gal so cute, An' dance, you punchers, dance. Oh, lips are sweet an' eyes are bright, 'Tis sparkin' time fer all to-night; So lope along an' do your best, An' cut right in an' lead th' rest. An' say — You may 30 BLACK HILLS BALLADS Start them fiddles right away, An' Jiggin' Finn With his 'cor-din' Will do th' rest, so all join in, An' pound th' floor with your high-heeled boot, An' swing your granger gal so cute, An' dance, you punchers, dance. There's drink an' fodder fer you-all, My land-o'-goodness ! hear that call ! Th' set's a-formin' ! Cut loose now ! An' show them bashful fellers how — An' say — You may Start them fiddles right away, An' Jiggin' Finn With his 'cor-din' Will do th' rest, so all join in, An' pound th' floor with your high-heeled boot, An' swing your granger gal so cute, An' dance, you punchers, dance. loafin' time 3 1 LOAFIN' TIME Th' trees are whisperin' a tale Of shade an' lazy dreams ; Of loiter in' an' linger in' Beside th' singin' streams. Tis loafin' time. Th' woods are makin' love to you, They're sayin' you had best Come out from work an' idle there, Upon th' lap of rest — 'Tis loafin' time. 2,2 BLACK HILLS BALLADS FISHIN' IN TH' SHADE Did you ever go an' loaf on th' bank of some ole crick, With vi'lets fer your beddin' an' a bit o' line an' stick; With a pouch o' good terbacker or a chaw o' yaller twist? Didn't you? Well, honest, what a lot o' fun you've missed. Did you ever go an' loaf where th' canyuns reared so high That it seemed th' pines were pokin' little air- holes in th' sky; With a paper full o' eatin' an' a bottle on th' list? Didn't you? Well, honest, what a lot o' fun you've missed. Did you ever go an' loaf when th' afternoons were long, An' th' canyuns full o' dreamin' an' th' treetops full o' song — FISHIN IN TH SHADE 33 Jes' layin' back so peaceful, with a cob pipe in your fist? Didn't you? Well, honest, what a lot o' fun you've missed. j.\ Bl \iK HILLS i! U i IDS \/'/v' / A G I' I M /•' .V /'// • AM A' (//■ Oh, it's gittin' onto spring, an* so let us up an' sing of tli* greenin' of 1 1 1 " prairies in th' sun. An* iir comin' of th' birds an' th' fat'nin' of th' herds start a-ttinin' Up your voices ev'ryone — Oh, inv ! sec tli* smilin' sky, winter's gittin' ro;uly lit to slide. Ait's some wanner, hain't it. say? Chinook, yes, an' breath o' May, An' crocuses along th' Big Divide. Soon a teller hears an' sees blackbirds niilliif in tli" trees, soon th' roses will he bloomin' Fer th' May, Oh, it's comin' don't von feel that it's gittin' time to peel all your winter duds an' SOrto' sweetly say : Oh. myl see th' smilin' sky. winter's gittin' ready for to slide. SPRINGTIME ON in RANGE 35 Air's some warmer, hain't it, say? Chinook, yes, an' breath o' May, An* crocuses along th' Big l)ivi