8

When I took you home, towards morning,
Such a night I never saw.
How the Kansas wind was blowing!
Swift and keen and kind o' raw.
Blew more furious every minute,
Blew a hole clear through the skies;
Blew so loud, like demons hissing,
That the moon was 'fraid to rise.
Got so fierce it blew the stars out,
Saw them flicker, then go dead,
While the blackness, mad and murky,
Rolled in thunder overhead.
Goin' with it, durn my whiskers!
Hind wheels riz plumb off the ground;
Goin' 'gainst it, you and me, dear,
Had to push the hosses down.


9

Now and then a raindrop whistled
Like a bullet past my head;
And I hollered out to you, dear,
"Scrooch down in the wagon bed."
Then they come as big as hen eggs;
Struck the hosses stinging raps,