Oh, who is so free as a gallant vaquero?
With his beauty of bronze 'neath his shady sombrero:
He smiles at his love, and he laughs at his fate,
For he knows he is lord of a noble estate:
The prairie's his own, and he mocks at the great.
"Ho-ho! Hai! Ho-ho!
Head 'em off! Turn 'em back!
Keep 'em up to the track!
Ho-hillo! Ho-hillo!
Cric—crac!"
Oh, Donna Luisa is proud as she's fair;
But she parted last night with a lock of her hair.
And under the stars she roams, seeking for rest,
While she thinks of the stranger that came from the West;
And Juan bears something wrapped up in his breast—
"Ho-ho! Hai! Ho-ho!
Head 'em off! Turn 'em back!
Keep 'em up to the track!
Ho-hillo! Ho-hillo!
Cric—crac!'"
His proudest possessions are prettily placed,
His love at his heart, and his life at his waist.
And if in a quarrel he happen to fall,
Why, the prairie's his grave, and his poncho's[61] his pall,
And Donna Luisa—gets over it all!
"Ho-ho! Hai! Ho-ho!
Head 'em off! Turn 'em back!
Keep 'em up to the track!
Ho-hillo! Ho-hillo!
Cric—crac!"
The Padrè may preach, and the Notary frown,
But the poblanas[62] smile as he rides through the town:
And the Padrè, he knows, likes a kiss on the sly,
And the Notary oft has a "drop in his eye,"
But all that he does is to love and to die—
"Ho-ho! Hai! Ho-ho!
Head 'em off! Turn 'em back!
Keep 'em up to the track!
Ho-hillo! Ho-hillo!
Cric—crac!"
Frank Desprez, in Temple Bar.
FOOTNOTES:
[60] A California cattle-driver. Furnished with revolver, lasso, and long-lashed whip, these adventurous gentry conduct the half-wild cattle of the plains over miles of their surface; and, with their gay sashes, high boots, gilded and belled spurs, and dark, broad hats (sombreros), present a very picturesque appearance.
[61] Cloak.
[62] Peasant girls.