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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  N. Howard Thorp

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

The Little Cow-girl

N. Howard Thorp

From “Cowboy Songs”

DADDY come from Brownsville,

En Maw from San Antone;

We come here in a wagon

That ud rock en squeak en groan.

We brought our stock er horses,

The boys come on afore,

En Dad was playin’ all the way

Old Turkey in the Straw!

There’s me en Sister Annie,

En Tom, en Si, en Budd—

We all was raised with cattle,

So I guess it’s in our blood.

En I shore love the dances—

Folks say I take after Maw—

When Dad takes down his fiddle

En plays Turkey in the Straw!

We ain’t jest much on stylish,

But we got a good home ranch;

En the little old horse-pasture

Runs clear down to the branch.

En we’re all plumb contented

Since Dad put hinges on the door,

En with his old brown fiddle

Plays Turkey in the Straw!

I got er pair er shop-made boots

That Dad had made fer me,

Er pair er silver-mounted spurs

Es pretty es can be.

We ride ter all the dances,

En when I get on the floor

I’m sure to hear Dad playin’

Old Turkey in the Straw!

I’ve got a young cow-puncher roped,

I’ve got ’im on my string;

En everything is lovely—

We’ll be married in the spring;

Es we ain’t much on religion

We’ll be married by the law,

En I kin hear Dad playin’

Old Turkey in the Straw!