Westward Ho

Westward Ho

I love not Colorado
Where the faro table grows
And down the desperado
The rippling bourbon flows.

Nor seek I fair Montana
Of bowie-lunging fame
The pistol ring of fair Wyoming
I leave to nobler game.

Sweet poker-handed Kansas
In vain allures the eye
The Nevada rough has charms enough
Yet is blandishments I fly.

Shall Arizona woo me
Where the meek Apache bides
Or New Mexico where natives grow
With arrow-proof insides.

Nay, ‘tis where the grizzlies wander
And the lonely diggers roam
And the grim Chinese from the squatter flees
That I’ll make my humble home.

I’ll chase the wild tarantula
And the fierce cayote I’ll dare
And the locust grim, I’ll battle him
In his native wildwood lair.

Or I’ll seek the gulch deserted
And dream of the wild Red man
And I’ll build a cot on a corner lot
And get rich as soon as I can.