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      My name is Joe Bowers,

      I've got a brother Ike,

      I came here from Missouri,

      Yes, all the way from Pike.

      I'll tell you why I left there

      And how I came to roam,

      And leave my poor old mammy,

      So far away from home.

      I used to love a gal there,

      Her name was Sallie Black,

      I asked her for to marry me,

      She said it was a whack.

      She says to me, "Joe Bowers,

      Before you hitch for life,

      You ought to have a little home

      To keep your little wife."

      Says I, "My dearest Sallie,

      O Sallie, for your sake,

      I'll go to California

      And try to raise a stake."

      Says she to me, "Joe Bowers,

      You are the chap to win,

      Give me a kiss to seal the bargain,"—

      And I throwed a dozen in.

      I'll never forget my feelings

      When I bid adieu to all.

      Sal, she cotched me round the neck

      And I began to bawl.

      When I begun they all commenced,

      You never heard the like,

      How they all took on and cried

      The day I left old Pike.

      When I got to this here country

      I hadn't nary a red,

      I had such wolfish feelings

      I wished myself most dead.

      At last I went to mining,

      Put in my biggest licks,

      Came down upon the boulders

      Just like a thousand bricks.

      I worked both late and early

      In rain and sun and snow,

      But I was working for my Sallie

      So 'twas all the same to Joe.

      I made a very lucky strike

      As the gold itself did tell,

      For I was working for my Sallie,

      The girl I loved so well.

      But one day I got a letter

      From my dear, kind brother Ike;

      It came from old Missouri,

      Yes, all the way from Pike.

      It told me the goldarndest news

      That ever you did hear,

      My heart it is a-bustin'

      So please excuse this tear.

      I'll tell you what it was, boys,

      You'll bust your sides I know;

      For when I read that letter

      You ought to seen poor Joe.

      My knees gave 'way beneath me,

      And I pulled out half my hair;

      And if you ever tell this now,

      You bet you'll hear me swear.

      It said my Sallie was fickle,

      Her love for me had fled,

      That she had married a butcher,

      Whose hair was awful red;

      It told me more than that,

      It's enough to make me swear,—

      It said that Sallie had a baby

      And the baby had red hair.

      Now I've told you all that I can tell

      About this sad affair,

      'Bout Sallie marrying the butcher

      And the baby had red hair.

      But whether it was a boy or girl

      The letter never said,

      It only said its cussed hair

      Was inclined to be red.

      Last night as I lay on the prairie,

      And looked at the stars in the sky,

      I wondered if ever a cowboy

      Would drift to that sweet by and by.

      Roll on, roll on;

      Roll on, little dogies, roll on, roll on,

      Roll on, roll on;

      Roll on, little dogies, roll on.

      The road to that bright, happy region

      Is a dim, narrow trail, so they say;

      But the broad one that leads to perdition

      Is posted and blazed all the way.

      They say there will be a great round-up,

      And cowboys, like dogies, will stand,

      To be marked by the Riders of Judgment

      Who are posted and know every brand.

      I know there's many a stray cowboy

      Who'll be lost at the great, final

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