The Disappointment
I am standing by her dug-out, Open stands the sagging door
1
There’s a feeling in my bosom,
Like a hound that’s lost the game,
After chasing over bunch grass
Till his feet are sore and lame.
I am standing by her dug-out,
Open stands the sagging door;
Every grassblade speaks of Nancy,
But she’s gone, to come no more.
For her father and her mother,
And her brothers, late last night,
Loaded up their prairie schooner,
And vamoosed the ranch, ’fore light.
’Taint no use to stand here cussin’,
But my heart slumps down like lead
When I think of losing Nancy
And to know my dreams are dead.
2
It was here I held you, Nancy,
When I showed you all my heart;
When I told you I would always
Be your friend and take your part.
Oh, I thought that in life’s lottery
I had drawn the biggest prize,
When I kissed you there that evening
And looked down into your eyes;
For I never had such feelin’s
Fill my hide clean through and through
Such a hungry, starving longing,
To be always close to you.
But you’ve gone with all your family,
And I’m left to mourn my loss,
While the posse hunts your daddie,
’Cause he stole Bill Kelly’s hoss.
3
Now, I don’t know where you’re roaming,
And I don’t know where’ll you’ll land;
But I wish you knew my feelin’s,
And ’twas clear just how I stand:
How the good Lord, high in heaven,
Put a throbbing heart in here,
But it starts to pumping backwards
When it feels that you don’t keer.
I’m a roving old jay-hawker,
Never caught like this before,
But I’d give my last possession
For a glimpse of you once more.
If we lose your old fool father
Folks ’round here can stand the loss,
He was raised in old Missoura,
Or he’d never stole that hoss.
4
When my mind gets to recalling
All the happy times we had,
Good red liquor and tobacco
Gets to tasting kind o’ bad.
You remember on your birthday
How I drove ’round kind o’ late,
And we went to Donkey Collins’
To a dance, to celebrate?
When you got up in my wagon,
Bless my heart, you sure was sweet!
You was bound that you’d go barefoot,
’Cause your new shoes hurt your feet.
Well, I tell you, pretty Nancy,
Every minute of that ride
Seemed like floating through the heavens,
’Cause you set there by my side.
5
When we pulled up at old Collins’,
Quite a bunch was there before,
You could hear the fiddler calling,
And the scraping on the floor.
Through the dingy sodhouse window
Gleamed a sickly yellow light,
Where I helped you from the wagon,
Holding you so loving tight.
Then they called out, “Choose your pardners,
Numbers five, six, seven, and eight,”
And we hustled up to join in,
For we knew that we were late.
After starting up the music
Something happened—you know what—
All because I loved you, Nancy,
And their manners made me hot.
6
I just glanced around the circle,
When we came to “Balance, all;”
To that mess of cowhide-covered
Feet that stomped at every call.
Sure enough, the thing I looked for
Come to pass when Aleck Rose
Tried to dos-a-dosby you, dear,
And, instead, waltzed on your toes.
Recollect? I stopped the fiddler,
And I stopped that stomping crowd,
Using language that was decent,
But was mighty clear and loud:
“Now, you fellers from the Sand Hills,
Fight me, or if you refuse
You don’t dance with me and Nancy
While a one of you wears shoes!”
7
Yes, they took them off, Miss Nancy,
In respect for you and me,
Putting all on equal footing,
Just the way it ought to be.
And we went through all the figures
That we knew in that quadrille,
But it didn’t seem like dancin’,
Steppin’ round so awful still.
Fiddler, even, did his calling
In a sort of quiet hush—
“Swing your pardners,” “Back to places,”
“Sounds to me like paddlin’ mush.”
“Man in center,” “Circle round him,”
“All join hands,” and “‘Way you go,”
“Wait fur Betsy, she’s in trouble,
With a splinter in her toe.”
8
When I took you home, towards morning,
Such a night I never saw.
How the Kansas wind was blowing!
Swift and keen and kind o’ raw.
Blew more furious every minute,
Blew a hole clear through the skies;
Blew so loud, like demons hissing,
That the moon was ’fraid to rise.
Got so fierce it blew the stars out,
Saw them flicker, then go dead,
While the blackness, mad and murky,
Rolled in thunder overhead.
Goin’ with it, durn my whiskers!
Hind wheels riz plumb off the ground;
Goin’ ’gainst it, you and me, dear,
Had to push the hosses down.
9
Now and then a raindrop whistled
Like a bullet past my head;
And I hollered out to you, dear,
“Scrooch down in the wagon bed.”
Then they come as big as hen eggs;
Struck the hosses stinging raps,
Till the frightened, tremblin’ critters
Leaped beneath the angry slaps.
Lord a’mighty, how they scampered!
While I gripped the lines in tight,
As the wagon box sailed upward
Like a mighty wind-borne kite.
Down below us ran the hosses,
While we floated through the air,
But through all that roaring shakeup,
You, dear, never turned a hair.
10
When the lightning flashed around us,
Rabbits stopped to let us by,—
Looked as if they said by halting,
“We can’t race with things that fly!”
Coyotes sneaked off in the slough grass,
Prairie dogs stayed in their holes;
We was lubricated blazes,—
Couldn’t stop to save our souls.
Up the hills we flew like swallows,
Down the slopes, a hurricane,
Bumped and jumped the humps and hollows,
Dragged the ground and riz again.
And I prayed, “Dear Lord, save Nancy,
For a desperate lover’s sake!”
You was hangin’ to my gallus,
And I felt it strain and break.
11
Felt you holdin’ to my boot-leg,
Slattin’ in the roarin’ gale,
So, to save you, I worked for’ard,
Got the nigh hoss by the tail.
Miles on miles we tore on blindly,
Had to let the critters roam,
Till, at last, they turned their noses
To the north, and towards their home.
We went charging down a valley,
Stopped in something soft and deep;
Wagon box and you and me, dear,
Landed in a mixed-up heap.
Both the hosses’ legs was buried
And I knew that that was proof
We had ‘lighted on the top of
Old Jim Davis’s dug-out roof.
12
Now, old Jim was sleeping soundly
Close beside his faithful wife;
Peace had smoothed his savage wrinkles,
All his dreams were free from strife.
He was safe from ragin’ cyclones,
Wolves could never force his door,
All the ills of life had vanished,
On his mountain torrent snore.
So when our descent awoke him
Sitting bolt upright in bed,
With the flying hoofs above him,
Kicking hair off of his head,
He aroused his sleeping helpmeet;
Loud his curses and abuse,
“Mary, hike your lazy carcass,
Hell has turned the devil loose.”
13
While ole Jim was shooting at us—
Couldn’t make him understand;
Kept his blamed old gun a-going
Till he got me through the hand—
Not a whimper did you utter,
But you grabbed the hosses’ heads,
Coaxed and helped them in their trouble,
While they strove like thoroughbreds,
Lunging, plunging, you stayed with them
Till they both were clear and free.
Riding one, you lashed them forward,
Circled round and picked up me,
Helped me mount, while Jim was loading;
Then we struck off through the night,
Right across the storm-swept prairie,
Till the East was streaked with light.
14
I was faint and sick and dizzy,
From my shattered, bleeding hand,
And it seemed as if the jolting
Gave me more than I could stand.
Once I reeled, and would have fallen,
If you hadn’t held me there;
Put your dear arm tight around me,
Whispered, “Billy, don’t you care.”
Then you headed straight for water,
Threw the lines, dismounted first,
Smoothed the grass down for my pillow,
While the hosses quenched their thirst.
Then you bathed my throbbing forehead,—
Love and healing in the touch,—
Sayin’, “Billy, pardner, listen:
That there shootin’ wasn’t much!”
15
From your skirt you tore a piece out,
Dressed my wounds so neat and quick,
That I felt the Lord had sent you
Just to soothe and heal the sick.
Bringing back a hat of water,
Through the dim light and the rain,
Thought I saw your face turn paler,
Like you felt a twinge o’ pain;
But as you knelt down beside me
I could hear you humming low
Some mysterious song, stopped short by,
“Billy, man, we sure must go!”
And the sun turned loose his glory,
Through the tempest-riven sky,
Till it touched us like a blessing
From the Father there on high.
16
I am standing by her dug-out;
Open swings the sagging door,
Every grassblade speaks of Nancy;
But she’s gone, to come no more,
For her father and her mother,
And her brothers, late last night,
Loaded up their prairie schooner,
And vamoosed the ranch, ’fore light.
There’s the bed poles and the stove hole;
Not a thing is left for me,
As a keepsake of my Nancy,
Anywhere that I can see.
What! a paper, pinned up yonder,
Kind o’ folded like a note!
It has writin’, sure as blazes!
It is somethin’ Nancy wrote.
17
“My dere billy, you will wunder
Why I ever rote you this;
I am sorry I am leevin
Daddie needs me in his biz.
I don’t reely like this quiet
Kind of sober farmer life;
I like something allus doin,
But for this, I’d be your wife.
I got two of old Jim’s bullets,
Didn’t like to let you know,
Cause the one that you was luggin’
Seemed to fret and hurt you so.
Daddie cut them out that evenin;
I don’t mind a little such,
But, dere billy, don’t you worry,
Old Jim’s shootin wasn’t much.”