WE ain't no saints on the Bar-Z ranch, 'Tis said — an' we know who 'tis — "Th' devil's laid hold on us, tooth an' branch, An' uses us in his biz." Still, we ain't so bad but we might be wuss, An' you'd sure admit that's right, If you happened — an' unbeknown to us — Around, of a Sunday night. Th' week-day manners is stowed away, Th' jokes an' the card games halts, When Dick's ol' fiddle begins to play A toon — an' it ain't no waltz. It digs fer th' things that are out o' sight, It delves through th' toughest crust, It grips th' heart-strings, an' holds 'em tight, Till we've got ter sing — er bust! With pipin' treble the kid starts in, An' Hell! how that kid kin sing! "Yield not to temptation, fer yieldin' is sin," He leads, an' the rafters ring; "Fight manfully onward, dark passions subdue," We shouts it with force an' vim; "Look ever to Jesus, he'll carry you through,"— That's puttin' it up to Him! We ain't no saints on the ol' Bar-Z, But many a time an' oft When ol' fiddle's a-pleadin', "Abide with me," Our hearts gets kinder soft. An' we makes some promises there an' then Which we keeps — till we goes to bed,— That's the most could be ast o' a passel o' men What ain't no saints, as I said. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EXAMPLE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES TO THE BOY by ELIZABETH CLEMENTINE DODGE KINNEY THE CALL OF THE WILD by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE A COWBOY'S WORRYING LOVE by JAMES BARTON ADAMS THE LESSER BEAUTY by MARGARET STEELE ANDERSON |