Cowhands would sometimes sing while on a cattle drive to pass the time or to calm their herds and keep them from stampeding. Many ballads originated around the campfire. Some songs were simply verses about the life of a cowhand sung to familiar tunes. Cowboy songs romanticized the hard life on the Great Plains. Tunes such as “Home on the Range’ and “Red River Valley” found their way into American homes through movies and radio long after the end of the cattle drives.
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Texas Ranger’s Lament
Come listen to a ranger, you kindhearted stranger,
This song though a sad one, you’re welcome to hear;
We’ve fought the Comanches away from your ranches
And followed them far o’er the Texas frontier
Your wives and your daughters we have guarded from slaughter,
Through conflicts and struggles I shudder to tell;
So fight your own battles and guard your own cattle,
For us Texas Rangers must bid you farewell.
No beans, no potatoes, no beets or tomatoes,
But jerked beef as dry as the sole on your shoes;
All day without drinking, all night without winking,
I’ll tell you, kind stranger, this never will do.
Those big alligators, the state legislators,
Are puffing and blowing two-thirds of their time;
But windy orations about rangers and rations
Never put in our pockets one-tenth of a dime.
They do not regard us, they will not reward us,
Though hungry and haggard with holes in our coats;
But the election is coming and then they’ll be drumming
And praising our valor to purchase our votes.
Where houses have people and churches have steeples,
Where laws are more equal and ladies are kind;
Where work is regarded and worth is rewarded,
Where pumpkins are plenty and pockets are lined.
We fought the Comanches away from your ranches,
Exposed to the arrows and knifes of the foes;
Though, sir, I may grieve you, the rangers must leave you,
For home to the States I’m determined to go.
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The Crooked Trail to Holbrook
Come all you hunky punchers that follow the bronco steer,
I’ll sing to you a verse or two your spirits for to cheer.
It’s all about a journey, a trip I did undergo
On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona, oh.
It was on the seventeenth of February when our herd started out,
It would make your heart shudder to hear them bawl and shout;
As wild as any buffalo that ever rode the Platte,
Those were dogies we were driving, and every one was fat.
We crossed the Mescal Mountains on the way to Gilson Flats,
And when we got to Gilson Flats, Lord, how the wind did blow!
It blew so hard it blew so fierce, we knew not where to go,
But our spirits never failed us, and onward we did go.
That night we had a stampede; . . . how the cattle run!
We made it to our horses; I tell you, I tell you we had no fun;
Over the catclaw brush prickly pear we quickly made our way,
We thought of our long journey and the girls we’d left for one day.
It’s along by Sombrero we slowly punched along,
While each and every cowboy would sing a merry song,
To cheer his comrades onward, as onward we did go,
On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona, oh.
We crossed the Mogollon Mountains where the tall pines do grow,
Grass grows in abundance and sparkling streams do flow;
Our packs were always turning; our journey it was slow
On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona, oh.
We finally got to Holbrook, a little gale did blow,
It blew up sand and pebblestones—it didn’t blow them slow.
We had to drink the water from that muddy little stream,
And swallowed a peck of dirt when we tried to eat a bean.
But the cattle now are shipped and we are homeward bound
With a lot of tired horses as ever could be found.
Across the reservation no danger did we fear,
But thought of wives and sweethearts and the ones we love so dear.
Now we are back in Globe City, all our friends to share,
Here’s to every puncher who follows the bronco steer.
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“Texas Ranger’s Lament” and “The Crooked Trail to Holbrook” from “The Whorehouse Bells Were Ringing” and Other Songs Cowboys Sing, ed. by Guy Logsdon.
