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 Padre may preach, and the Notary frown,
But the _poblanas_[62] smile as he rides through the town:
And the Padre, 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_.