The Dying Cowboy

One evening at sunset as I rode o-re the prairie
The nightengales singing and all things so gay
I chanced as I spied there a handsom young cowboy
All dressed in white linen and this he did say

Oho beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly
And play the “Dead March” as you bare me along
Take me to the prairie and turn the sod o’re me
For Im a wild cowboy and I know I did wrong

Oh once in my saddle I used to go dashing
Oh once in my saddle I used to go gay
But I first took to drinking and then to card playing
Got shot in the breast and Im dying today

Go gather together my friends ‘mong the cowboys’
And bit them lament their companion’s sad fate
And go tell the others this warning I give them
Go quit their wild roving before its to late

Will somebody write to my poor aged mother
And send the sad news to my sister so dear
And still there’s another more dear than the other
Who would bitterly weef if she knew I were here

Get six gay young cowboys to carry my coffin
And six fair young maids to go singing along
Let each of them carry a bunch of red roses
To strew ore the grave of a boy who done wrong

Will somebody fetch me a cup of cold water
A cup of cold water the poor fellow said
But ere they had brought it his sould had departed
And fled to it’s Maker the Cowboy was dead

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