Sketches . ?^^ Page Twenty-five. Yes, I reckon the Countrys improvin, Theres more people, more courts and more crime. But it seems to me kind a amusin To think about that other time, When the cattle browsed round on the prairie, And theres nothing you wanted to do. But roll in the grass and be happy; When there wasnt a house in view The big tall grass and the cattails Looked purty down in the slough; The blue stem, and the acres of goldenrod, And sumac with blood red hue. Theyr buildin a town on the old ranch place, Where the round ups used to be; Theyve got brick streets and electric lights,
Sketches . ?^^ Page Twenty-five. Yes, I reckon the Countrys improvin, Theres more people, more courts and more crime. But it seems to me kind a amusin To think about that other time, When the cattle browsed round on the prairie, And theres nothing you wanted to do. But roll in the grass and be happy; When there wasnt a house in view The big tall grass and the cattails Looked purty down in the slough; The blue stem, and the acres of goldenrod, And sumac with blood red hue. Theyr buildin a town on the old ranch place, Where the round ups used to be; Theyve got brick streets and electric lights, And buildens highern a tree. My wimmen folks want to move down there, In a house with a blue grass yard, Which, countin the walk that divides the same, Aint biggern a postal card. But I like the view of the post oak trees, When the frost in the fall starts to turn the leaves.
Size: 1822px × 1372px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidsketches00wo, bookyear1913