A Roar from the Bunkhouse
Nary a thing to eat Thanksgivin'Only tin can truck!Gettin' tired of such a livin',Blame the orn'ry luck!Nothin' only beans an' bacon—Pard, excuse these tears!Seems jest like we've been fursaken—Darn this punchin' steers!
Folks back home are jest a-stuffin'Turkey-meat an' pie;At them feed-fests there's no bluffin';Gosh, it makes me sigh!No sich dinner for us fellersIn this camp appears;Turkey ain't fer cowboys' smellers—Darn this punchin' steers!
Weather soggy-like an' murky;Makes me mighty blue;Makes me h'umsick, too.Sour-dough bread an' canned tomatersAin't th' grub that cheers;Oh fer pie an' mashed pertaters!Darn this punchin' steers!
Bunkhouse bunch are sick as blazesBein' fed this way;Gettin' so th' maynoo raisesSam Hill ev'ry day!ev'ry mother's son a-kickin'When th' truck appears!Never git a sniff o' chicken—Darn this punchin' steers!
Same ol' bread an' beans furever!Gosh, we'd like a change!Reck'n we won't git it neverWhile we ride th' range!Oh, fer some o' mother's cookin;—That's th' dope that cheers!Guess my callin' I've mistooken—DARN this punchin' steers!
by E. A. Brininstool, from Trail Dust of a Maverick, 1914
Here's wishing all my friends the happiest of Thanksgivings!!!