LITMIR.BIZ

      Come all you young companions

      And listen unto me,

      I'll tell you a story

      Of some bad company.

      I was born in Pennsylvania

      Among the beautiful hills

      And the memory of my childhood

      Is warm within me still.

      I did not like my fireside,

      I did not like my home;

      I had in view far rambling,

      So far away did roam.

      I had a feeble mother,

      She oft would plead with me;

      And the last word she gave me

      Was to pray to God in need.

      I had two loving sisters,

      As fair as fair could be,

      And oft beside me kneeling

      They oft would plead with me.

      I bid adieu to loved ones,

      To my home I bid farewell,

      And I landed in Chicago

      In the very depth of hell.

      It was there I took to drinking,

      I sinned both night and day,

      And there within my bosom

      A feeble voice would say:

      "Then fare you well, my loved one,

      May God protect my boy,

      And blessings ever with him

      Throughout his manhood joy."

      I courted a fair young maiden,

      Her name I will not tell,

      For I should ever disgrace her

      Since I am doomed for hell.

      It was on one beautiful evening,

      The stars were shining bright,

      And with a fatal dagger

      I bid her spirit flight.

      So justice overtook me,

      You all can plainly see,

      My soul is doomed forever

      Throughout eternity.

      It's now I'm on the scaffold,

      My moments are not long;

      You may forget the singer

      But don't forget the song.

      Come all you good old boys and listen to my rhymes,

      We are west of Eastern Texas and mostly men of crimes;

      Each with a hidden secret well smothered in his breast,

      Which brought us out to Mexico, way out here in the West.

      My parents raised me tenderly, they had no child but me,

      Till I began to ramble and with them could never agree.

      My mind being bent on rambling did grieve their poor hearts sore,

      To leave my aged parents them to see no more.

      I was borned and raised in Texas, though never come to fame,

      A cowboy by profession, C.W. King, by name.

      Oh, when the war was ended I did not like to work,

      My brothers were not happy, for I had learned to shirk.

      In fact I was not able, my health was very bad,

      I had no constitution, I was nothing but a lad.

      I had no education, I would not go to school,

      And living off my parents I thought it rather cool.

      So I set a resolution to travel to the West,

      My parents they objected, but still I thought it best.

      It was out on the Seven Rivers all out on the Pecos stream,

      It was there I saw a country I thought just suited me.

      I thought I would be no stranger and lead a civil life,

      In order to be happy would choose myself a wife.

      On one Sabbath evening in the merry month of May

      To a little country singing I happened there to stray.

      It was there I met a damsel I never shall forget,

      The impulse of that moment remains within me yet.

      We soon became acquainted, I thought she would fill the bill,

      She seemed to be good-natured, which helps to climb the hill.

      She was a handsome figure though not so very tall;

      Her hair was red as blazes, I hate it worst of all.

      I saw her home one evening in the presence of her pap,

      I bid them both good evening with a note left in her lap.

      And when I got an answer I read it with a rush,

      I found she had consented, my feelings was a hush.

      But now I have changed my mind, boys, I am sure I wish her well.

      Here's to that precious jewel, I'm sure I wish her well.

      This girl was Miss Mollie Walker who fell in love with me,

      She was a lovely Western girl, as lovely as could be,

      She was so tall, so handsome, so charming and so fair,

      There is not a girl in this whole world with her I could compare.

      She said my pockets would be lined with gold, hard work then I'd leave o'er

      If I'd consent to live with her and say I'd roam no more.

      My mind began to ramble and it grieved my poor heart sore,

      To leave my darling girl, her to see no more.

      I asked if it made any difference if I crossed o'er the plains;

      She said it made no difference if I returned

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