’Way out in Western Texas, where the Clear Fork’s waters flow, 35
’Way high up in the Mokiones, among the mountain-tops, 81
We had all made the guess by the cut of his dress an’ the tenderfoot style that he slung, 49
We was settin’ ’round the ranch house on the last Thanksgivin’ Day, 151
We was trailin’ some stolen cattle, 153
We were camped on the plains at the head of the Cimarron, 171
Well, old horse, you’ve brought me ’cross the line, 123
What’s become of the punchers, 162
When I think of the last great round-up, 75
When the Mormons drifted southward, 117
When the sap comes up through the cottonwood roots, 112
Where the old Fort Sumner Barracks look down on the Pecos wide, 127
Where the Pecos River winds and turns in its journey to the sea, 126
While you’re all so frisky, I’ll sing a little song, 156
Windy Bill was a Texas Man, 168
You kin brag of city caffeys and their trout from streams and lakes, 74
You may call the cowboy horned and think him hard to tame, 34
