OH, the last steer has been branded And the last beef has been shipped, And I'm free to roam the prairies That the round-up crew has stripped; I'm free to think of Susie,— Fairer than the stars above,— She's the waitress at the station And she is my turtle dove. Biscuit-shootin' Susie,— She's got us roped and tied; Sober men or woozy Look on her with pride. Susie's strong and able, And not a one gits rash When she waits on the table And superintends the hash. Oh, I sometimes think I'm locoed An' jes fit fer herdin' sheep, 'Cause I only think of Susie When I'm wakin' or I'm sleep. I'm wearin' Cupid's hobbles, An' I'm tied to Love's stake-pin, And when my heart was branded The irons sunk deep in. Chorus: — I take my saddle, Sundays,— The one with inlaid flaps,— And don my new sombrero And my white angora chaps; Then I take a bronc for Susie And she leaves her pots and pans And we figure out our future And talk o'er our homestead plans. Chorus: — | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TRULY GREAT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SYMPATHY (2) by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN by CAROLINA OLIPHANT NAIRNE THE WINDS OF FATE by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX A STIRRUP-CUP by DOUGLAS AINSLIE THE LEADY'S TOWER by WILLIAM BARNES |