My love has a gun that has gone to the bad,
Which makes poor old Jimmy feel pretty damn sad;
For the gun it shoots high and the gun it shoots low,
And it wobbles about like a bucking bronco.
The cook is an unfortunate son of a gun;
He has to be up e'er the rise of the sun;
His language is awful, his curses are deep,—
He is like cascarets, for he works while you sleep.
THE SHANTY BOY
I am a jolly shanty boy,
As you will soon discover.
To all the dodges I am fly,
A hustling pine woods rover.
A peavy hook it is my pride,
An ax I well can handle;
To fell a tree or punch a bull
Get rattling Danny Randall.
Bung yer eye: bung yer eye.
I love a girl in Saginaw;
She lives with her mother;
I defy all Michigan
To find such another.
She's tall and fat, her hair is red,
Her face is plump and pretty,
She's my daisy, Sunday-best-day girl,—
And her front name stands for Kitty.
Bung yer eye: bung yer eye.
I took her to a dance one night,
A mossback gave the bidding;
Silver Jack bossed the shebang
And Big Dan played the fiddle.
We danced and drank, the livelong night.
With fights between the dancing—
Till Silver Jack cleaned out the ranch
And sent the mossbacks prancing.
Bung yer eye: bung yer eye.