N. Howard Thorp

From “Cowboy Songs”

THERE’S a touch of human pathos,

A glamour of the West,

Round the names of women outlaws

Who have now gone to their rest:

Broncho Sue, Belle Star, and Shudders,

Pike Kate, and Altar Doane,

Calamity Jane, Sister Cummings,

And the Rose of Cimmaron.

You’ve all oft heard the saying,

“I’d go to Hell for you!”

About these women outlaws

That saying was too true.

Each left her home and dear one

For the man she loved the best;

Close by his side on many a wild ride

Through the mountains of the West.

They’ve played their parts in western drama,

On the great un-screened western stage,

Where the mountains were their platform,

Their stage-setting rocks and sage.

Hunted by many a posse,

Always on the run,

Every man’s hand against them,

They fought, and often won.

With a price upon each head,

They’d have to fight and stand;

And die as game as any man,

With a gun in either hand.

My hat off to you, women outlaws,

For you did what you thought best;

And the same wild blood that coursed your veins

Has settled up the West.

Whether right or wrong, your spirit

Knew not the word of fear—

And ’tis the dauntless courage of your kind

That bred the pioneer!