Robert V. Carr. Cowboy Lyrics, 1912.
With all outdoors, there hain’t no use
Fer nun to think he kin ferget,
Or from the wild’s big ways jar loose.
He ‘s always thinkin’ ‘bout them nights—
Jes’ listen now, and hear him sigh,
A-dreamin’ of an old tarp bed,
And sleepin’ out beneath the sky.
There hain’t no bunk in any house,
That to the warm earth kin compare;
She’s sort o’ kind and comfortin’,
And gives you strength as you lie there.
And then, besides, you gulp all night
The clean, sweet air; and in the morn
There hain’t a doubt or fear but what
Your rested soul jes’ laughs to scorn.
Go, take your little, stuffy room,
Yer four walls that corral you in;
Pull down the curtain, then git up
Chuckful o’ meanness, and begin
The day with grouch and grunt and groan;
Be civilized and right in style;
While them who rest beneath the stars
Rise with a whoop, and smile and smile.