First Lines

 

First Line Title
A full day’s ride from the nearest town, Wheel Tracks.
A mud-brown hut on a mesa bare Siesta Time.
A song of the range, an old-time song, The Lone Red Rock.
A treeless stretch of grassy plains, Overland.
Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting Dickens in Camp.
Across the crests of the naked hills, Laramie Trail.
Afar, afar in endless levels A Prairie View.
Air is gittin’ crisper, The Round-Up.
All alone on the hillside,— The “Grey Horse Troop.”
Awake, ye hills, and put your glory on! Sunrise On Pike’s Peak.
Away out west, one day, Two Clouds.
Bluffs of ochre and brown and red The Bad Lands.
Bought him of the Navajos—shadow of a pony, Largo.
Buried up to his ears in debt, The Homesteader.
Come, all you young waddies, I’ll sing you a song, Punchin’ Dough.
Come, my darling, for day is done; Evening On The Ranch.
Down along the Cimarron where the currents twine, The Plaint of the Tenderfoot.
Evenin’ time, and supper time. Song Of The Mess Wagon.
Far, far, far, are my silver waters drawn; Song Of The Oktahutchee.
Farewell to my homestead sod shanty; Farewell To My Shanty.
Five year coming next spring, Sal And Hiram In Dakoty.
Flapjacks fer breakfast; The Blessed Appetite.
Forty below! the dead hills rise Forty Below.
Give us the wind in our faces— The Indian Police.
“Git Down an’ Come In!” “Git Down an’ Come In.”
“God-forsaken Kansas,” yes, I saw it often then, God-Forsaken Kansas, Or The Drouth Of ‘60.
Gusty sheets o’ rain a-fallin’, Rainy Day In A Cow Camp.
He is brand-new out from England, and he thinks he knows it all— The Son Of Marquis Noddle.
He stood by the fence of a mountain ranch, A Colorado Philosopher.
Here’s what I love! Living.
Ho! wind of the far, far prairies! The Call of the Plains.
Ho! you in the boots and the long-necked spurs, The Station Brand.
How strangely to-night my memory flings The Prospector.
I am a roving cowboy just off the Texas plain, The Texas Cowboy.
“I can walk no further, sister, I am weary, cold and worn; The Westphalen Sisters.
I have sung my songs to the stately ships that are sailing the Seven Seas, The Empire Ship.
I uster hate ye once, but now To the Coyote.
I’ve got a letter, parson, from my son, away out west, Bill’s In Trouble.
I want to go where the flowers blow Where the Flowers Talk.
If a feller’s been a-straddle When You’re Throwed.
If the day looks kinder gloomy, Just Keep On Keepin’ On.
In the far-off hills of the sunset land; A Song Of The Sunset Land.
In through the train window comes the scent of sagebrush; On A Troop Train.
In winter time the creek’s aboom, Creekbed Rides.
Into the wilderness, come! Into the Wilderness, Come!
It’s lonely on the ol’ ranch now— The Cowman’s Loss.
It rains here when it rains an’ it’s hot here when it’s hot, The Bad Lands.
It was night when we limped to the Papago Tank, The Papago Tank.
“James Noonan, private, ‘B’ Troop, made sergeant on the field Sergeant Noonan Explains.
Jest onct I was a temperamental, sentimental poet— The Puncher Poet.
Knox, the gambler—Felix Knox— The Mercy of Nah-Né.
Lost in the dust of the trackless plains, At The Half-Way House.
Men in the rough—on the trails all new-broken— Men In The Rough.
My fathers sleep on the sunrise plains, The Westerner.
No more the herd of long-horns Horns and Hair.
O I’m lyin’ in the mill with my feet agin’ the sill; The Guardhouse.
O, it’s ho and hey, for the wind-swept way Song Of The Spur.
O’er the wide-spreading plains rolled the emigrant trains The Dust Of The Overland Trail.
Oh, a Round-up’s work and a heap uh grief; Day-Dreamin’
Oh, gentle breeze, from sunny South Among The Peaks.
Oh, my baby, my child, my darling! Lost On The Prairie.
Oh! them good old lucky days, Hidden Treasure Mine.
Oh! wind that comes out of the West, Song Of The West.
Ol’ man Ogletree is smart Luck.
Old Bill Hobbs, of the Badger-Track, The Varmint.
On and on through the silent night, Riding At Night.
On the Double Circle range where the grass grows green, A Philosophical Cowboy.
Once let a feller git in tune Sleepin’ Out.
Our Andy’s gone to battle now Andy’s Gone With Cattle.
Out along the sunset trail The Sunset Trail.
Out where the handclasp’s a little stronger, Out Where The West Begins.
Pedro Montoya of Arroyo Hondo Pedro Montoya of Arroyo Hondo.
Pitchin’ on the precipice, sluggin’ through the sand, The Mountain Stage.
Puddles and pools in the village street, Ballad of the Rain.
Ridin’ home when light is failin’ The Cowboy and Coyote.
“Salt Creek is riz”— “Salt Creek Is Riz.”
Sharp-Shooter Jim, a cowboy, roamed the wild, romantic West, The Cowboy Poet.
Slow bobbing, bobbing to and fro A Prairie Minuet.
Sometimes dry and sometimes wet, A Peach is Kansas.
Sweet drowsy seas of poppy-gold, Land of Gold.
The longest drought that ever came was broken with a rain, Always A Way.
The Scots may vaunt their highland, Sierran Meadows.
The shades of evening closed around The Prairie On Fire.
The sound of running water A Sierra Song.
The tall grass waves on the sandhill’s side— A Woman’s Grave.
The wind comes whimpering out of the West The Call of the Wind.
There is a people in the West, Away In Utah’s Valleys.
There’s nothin’ like the neighbors that in early days was seen Before So Many People Built Their Houses In Between.
They have tamed it with their harrows; they have broken it with plows; Sunset On The Prairies.
They said he was a “family” horse, Lines to an Old Cow-Pony.
To the West! to the West! to the land of the free, To The West! To The West!
“Train robbed at Lamore,” came the message, The Lamore Scoop.
Tread softly, boys, ‘tis sacred dust, The Old Barlow Road.
Unknown to the public eye A Colorado Lodge.
Wake ye! arise! life is greeting thee. Zuni Sunrise Call.
We are the whirlwinds that winnow the West— The Vigilantes.
We are up in the morning ere dawning of day Cowboy Song.
We have heard the night wind howling as we lay alone in bed Prairie Born.
What was it the Engines said, What The Engines Said.
When the beef cut loose to millin’, The Fall Round-Up.
When the frost is on the mountain, The Call Of The Round-Up.
When the Mexicans were flying La Muerta De Resaca.
When the snow is on the prairie When The Snow Is On The Prairie.
When walkin’ down a city street, The Meeting.
When yuh’re in West Texas, now don’t pass me by; The Ranchman’s Invitation.
Whether stockman or not, The Stockman’s Last Bed.
With laughter and love-spells and witch-eyes of blue The Township Lights.
Wonder why I feel so restless; A Bad Half Hour.
Yes, fellers, I ‘m back at the old ranch again, Where the Woodpecker Knocks On the Door.
Yes, he went an’ stole our steers, Playing The Game.
Yes, I’m holdin’ down the homestead here an’ roughin’ it a bit, Hustlin’ In My Jeans.
You bet I know him, pardner, he ain’t no circus fraud, Bill Cody.
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