[Illustration: "Then I dragged him on the prairie
Through a Turk's Head cactus bed."]




THE DISAPPOINTMENT


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There's a feeling in my bosom,
Like a hound that's lost the game,
After chasing over bunch grass
Till his feet are sore and lame.
I am standing by her dug-out,
Open stands the sagging door;
Every grassblade speaks of Nancy,
But she's gone, to come no more.
For her father and her mother,
And her brothers, late last night,
Loaded up their prairie schooner,
And vamoosed the ranch, 'fore light.
'Taint no use to stand here cussin',
But my heart slumps down like lead
When I think of losing Nancy
And to know my dreams are dead.


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