Star Trail until my race is run.

Ci yi yip yip yip pe ya.

I went up the Lone Star Trail in eighteen eighty-three;
I fell in love with a pretty miss and she in love with me.
"When you get to Kansas write and let me know;
And if you get in trouble, your bail I'll come and go."
When I got up in Kansas, I had a pleasant dream;
I dreamed I was down on Trinity, down on that pleasant stream;
I dreampt my true love right beside me, she come to go my bail;
I woke up broken hearted with a yearling by the tail.

Ci yi yip yip yip pe ya.

In came my jailer about nine o'clock,
A bunch of keys was in his hand, my cell door to unlock,
Saying, "Cheer up, my prisoner, I heard some voice say
You're bound to hear your sentence some time to-day."
In came my mother about ten o'clock,
Saying, "O my loving Johnny, what sentence have you got?"
"The jury found me guilty and the judge a-standin' by
Has sent me down to Huntsville to lock me up and die."

Ci yi yip yip yip pe ya.

Down come the jailer, just about eleven o'clock,
With a bunch of keys all in his hand the cell doors to unlock,
Saying, "Cheer up, my prisoner, I heard the jury say
Just ten long years in Huntsville you're bound to go and stay."
Down come my sweetheart, ten dollars in her hand,
Saying, "Give this to my cowboy, 'tis all that I command;
O give this to my cowboy and think of olden times,
Think of the darling that he has left behind."

Ci yi yip yip yip pe ya.

WAY DOWN IN MEXICO

O boys, we're goin' far to-night,
Yeo-ho, yeo-ho!
We'll take the greasers now in hand
And drive 'em in the Rio Grande,
Way down in Mexico.

We'll hang old Santa Anna soon,
Yeo-ho, yeo-ho!
And all the greaser soldiers, too,
To the chune of Yankee Doodle Doo,
Way down in Mexico.

We'll scatter 'em like flocks of sheep,
Yeo-ho, yeo-ho!
We'll mow 'em down with rifle ball
And plant our flag right on their wall,
Way down in Mexico.

Old Rough and Ready, he's a trump,
Yeo-ho, yeo-ho!
He'll wipe old Santa Anna out
And put the greasers all to rout,
Way down in Mexico.

Then we'll march back by and by,
Yeo-ho, yeo-ho!
And kiss the gals we left to home
And never more we'll go and roam,
Way down in Mexico.

RATTLESNAKE--A RANCH HAYING SONG

A nice young ma-wa-wan
Lived on a hi-wi-will;
A nice young ma-wa-wan,
For I knew him we-w