I COULD not be so well content,
So sure of thee,
Señorita,
But well I know you must relent
And come to me,
Lolita!

The Caballeros throng to see
Thy laughing face,
Señorita,
Lolita.
But well I know thy heart's for me,
Thy charm, thy grace,
Lolita!

I ride the range for thy dear sake,
To earn thee gold,
Señorita,
Lolita;
And steal the gringo's cows to make
A ranch to hold
Lolita!
Pocock in "Curley."

[p. 90]

A NEVADA COWPUNCHER TO HIS
BELOVED

LONESOME? Well, I guess so!
This place is mighty blue;
The silence of the empty rooms
Jes' palpitates with — you.

The day has lost its beauty,
The sun's a-shinin' pale;
I'll round up my belongin's
An' I guess I'll hit the trail.

Out there in the sage-brush
A-harkin' to the "Coo-oo"
Of the wild dove in his matin'
I can think alone of you.

Perhaps a gaunt coyote
Will go a-lopin' by
An' linger on the mountain ridge
An' cock his wary eye.