Red River Valley

From this valley they say you are going,
I shall miss your sweet face and bright smile.
For they say you are taking the sunshine
That has brightened my pathway awhile.

I’ve been thinking a long time my darling,
Of those sweet words you never would say,
But the last of my fond hopes have vanished
For they say you are going away.

(Refrain)

Then come sit here awhile ere you leave us
Do not hasten to bid us adieu,
And remember the Red River Valley
And the cowboy who loves you so true.

I have promised you, darling, that never
Would words from my lips cause you pain;
My life will be yours forever
If only you sill love me again.

There never could be such a longing
In the heart of a poor cowboys breast,
As dwells in this heart you are breaking
While I wait in my home in the west.

Do you think of this valley you are leaving,
Oh, how lonely and dreary it will be?
Do you think of the kind hearts you are breaking,
And the pain you are causing to me?

The Road to Cook’s Peak

If you’ll listen a while I’ll sing you a song,
And as it is short it won’t take me long.
There are some things of which I will speak
Concerning the stage on the road to Cook’s Peak.
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
Concerning the stage on the road to Cook’s Peak.

It was in the morning at eight-forty-five,
I was hooking up all ready to drive
Out where the miners for minerals seek,
With two little mules on the road to Cook’s Peak —
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
With two little mules on the road to Cook’s Peak.

With my two little mules I jog along
And try to cheer them with ditty and song;
O’er the wide prairie where coyotes sneak,
While driving the stage on the road to Cook’s Peak.
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
While driving the stage on the road to Cook’s Peak.

Sometimes I have to haul heavy freight,
Then it is I get home very late.
In rain or shine, six days in the week,
‘Tis the same little mules on the road to Cook’s Peak.
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
‘Tis the same little mules on the road to Cook’s Peak.

And when with the driving of stage I am through
I will to my two little mules bid adieu.
And hope that those creatures, so gentle and meek,
Will have a good friend on the road to Cook’s Peak.
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
Will have a good friend on the road to Cook’s Peak.

Now all kind friends that travel about,
Come take a trip on the Wallis stage route.
With a plenty of grit, they never get weak, —
Those two little mules on the road to Cook’s Peak.
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
On the road to Cook’s Peak, —
Those two little mules on the road to Cook’s Peak.

Sam Bass

Sam Bass was born in Indiana, it was his native home,
And at the age of seventeen young Sam began to roam.
Sam first came out to Texas a cowboy for to be, —
A kinder-hearted fellow you seldom ever see.

Sam used to deal in race stock, one called the Denton mare,
He matched her in scrub races, and took her to the Fair.
Sam used to coin the money and spent it just as free,
He always drank good whiskey wherever he might be.

Sam left the Collin’s ranch in the merry month of May
With a herd of Texas cattle the Black Hills for to see,
Sold out in Custer City and then got on a spree, —
A harder set of cowboys you seldom ever see.

On their way back to Texas they robbed the U.P. train,
And then split up in couples and started out again.
Joe Collins and his partner were overtaken soon,
With all their hard-earned money they had to meet their doom.

Sam made it back to Texas all right side up with care;
Rode into the town of Denton with all his friends to share.
Sam’s life was short in Texas; three robberies did he do,
He robbed all the passenger, mail, and express cars too.

Sam had four companions — four bold and daring lads —
They were Richardson, Jackson, Joe Collins, and Old Dad;
Four more bold and daring cowboys the rangers never knew,
They whipped the Texas rangers and ran the boys in blue.

Sam had another companion, called Arkansas for short,
Was shot by a Texas ranger by the name of Thomas Floyd;
Oh, Tom is a big six-footer and thinks he’s mighty fly,
But I can tell you his racket, — he’s a deadbeat on the sly.

Jim Murphy was arrested, and then released on bail;
He jumped his bond at Tyler and then took the train for Terrell;
But Mayor Jones had posted Jim and that was all a stall,
‘Twas only a plan to capture Sam before the coming fall.

Sam met his fate at Round Rock, July the twenty-first,
They pierced poor Sam with rifle balls and emptied out his purse.
Poor Sam he is a corpse and six foot under clay,
And Jackson’s in the bushes trying to get away.

Jim had borrowed Sam’s good gold and didn’t want to pay,
The only shot he saw was to give poor Sam away.
He sold out Sam and Barnes and left their friends to mourn, —
Oh, what a scorching Jim will get when Gabriel blows his horn.

And so he sold out Sam and Barnes and left their friends to mourn,
Oh, what a scorching Jim will get when Gabriel blows his horn.
Perhaps he’s got to heaven, there’s none of us can say,
But if I’m right in my surmise he’s gone the other way.

San Antonio Rose

Deep within my heart lies a melody,
A song of old San Antone.
Where in dreams I live with a memory,
Beneath the stars all alone.
It was there I found beside the Alamo,
Enchantment strange as the blue up above.
A moonlit pass only she would know,
Still hears my broken song of love.

Moon in all your splendor, know only my heart.
Call back my Rose, Rose of San Antone.
Lips so sweet and tender like petals falling apart.
Speak once again of my love, my own.

Broken song, empty words I know,
Still live in my heart all alone,
For that moonlit pass by the Alamo,
And Rose, my Rose of San Antone.

Strawberry Roan

I was laying round town just spending my time,
Out of a job and not makin’ a dime
When up steps a feller and says, “I suppose
That you’re a bronc rider by the look of your clothes?”

He guesses me right. “And a good one I’ll claim.
Do you happen to have any bad ones to tame?”
He say’s he’s got one that’s a good one to buck,
And at throwing good writers he’s had lots of luck.

He says this old pony has never been rode
And the man that gets on him is bound to be throwed.
I gets all excited and I ask what he pays
To ride this old pony for a couple of days.

He say’s “ten dollars.” I says “I’m your man;
The bronc never lived that I cannot fan;
The bronc never tried nor never drew breath
That I cannot ride till he starves plumb to death.”

He says, “Get your saddle.  I’ll give you a chance.”
We got in the buggy and went to the ranch.
We waited till morning, right after chuck
I went out to see if that outlaw could buck.

Down in the corral, a-standin’ alone,
Was this little old caballo, a strawberry roan.
He had little pin ears that touched at the tip
And a big forty-four brand was on his left hip.

We was spavined all around and he had pigeon toes,
Little pig eyes and a big Roman nose.
He was u-necked a old with a long lower jaw-
You could tell at a glance he was a regular outlaw.

I buckled on my spurs, I was feeling plumb fine,
I pulled down my hat and curls up my twine,
I threw the loop on him, right well I knew then,
Before I had rode him I’d sure earn my ten.

I got the blind on him with a terrible fight,
Cinched on the saddle and girded it tight;
Then I steps up on him and pulled down the blind
And sat there in the saddle to see him unwind.

He bowed his old neck and I’ll say he unwound,
He seemed to quit living down there on the ground;
He went up to the east and came down to the west
With me in the saddle a doin’ my best.

He sure was frog walkin’, I heaved a big sigh,
He only lacked wings for to be on the fly;
He turned his old belly right up to the sun,
for he was a sun fishin’ son of a gun.

He was the worst bronco I’ve seen on the range,
He could turn on a nickel and leave you some change.
While he was buckin’ he squalled like a shoat,
I tell you that outlaw, he sure got my goat.

I tell all the people that pony could step
And I was still on him a-buildin’ a rep;
He came down on all fours and turned up his side,
I don’t see how he kept from losin’ his hide.

I lost my stirrup, I lost my hat,
I was a pullin’ at leather as blind as a bat;
With a phenomenal jump he made a high dive
And set me a-winding up there through the sky.

I turned forty flips and came down to the earth
And sit there a-cussin’ the day of his birth.
I know there’s some ponies that I cannot ride,
Some of them living, they haven’t all died.

But I bet all my money there’s no man alive
That can ride Old Strawberry when he makes his high dive.