Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BAR-Z ON A SUNDAY NIGHT, by PERCIVAL COMBES



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BAR-Z ON A SUNDAY NIGHT, by            
First Line: We ain't no saints on the bar-z ranch
Last Line: What ain't no saints, as I said.
Subject(s): Cowboys; Ranch Life; West (u.s.); Southwest; Pacific States


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.





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