knees,
I'm a she-wolf from Shamon Creek,
For I was dropped from a lightning streak
And it's my night to hollow--Whoo-pee!

I stayed in Texas till they runned me out,
Then in Bull Frog they chased me about,
I walked a little and rode some more,
For I've shot up a town before
And it's my night to hollow--Whoo-pee!

Give me room and turn me loose
I'm peaceable without excuse.
I never killed for profit or fun,
But riled, I'm a regular son of a gun
And it's my night to hollow--Whoo-pee!

Good-eye Jim will serve the crowd;
The rule goes here no sweetnin' 'lowed.
And we'll drink now the Nixon kid,
For I rode to town and lifted the lid
And it's my night to hollow--Whoo-pee!

You can guess how quick a man must be,
For I killed eleven and wounded three;
And brothers and daddies aren't makin' a sound
Though they know where the kid is found
And it's my night to hollow--Whoo-pee!

When I get old and my aim aint true
And it's three to one and wounded, too,
I won't beg and claw the ground;
For I'll be dead before I'm found
When it's my night to hollow--Whoo-pee!
_Baird Boyd._

MARTA OF MILRONE

I SHOT him where the Rio flows;
I shot him when the moon arose;
And where he lies the vulture knows
Along the Tinto River.

In schools of eastern culture pale
My cloistered flesh began to fail;
They bore me where the deserts quail
To winds from out the sun.

I looked upon the land and sky,
Nor hoped to live nor feared to die;
And from my hollow breast a sigh
Fell o'er the burning waste.

But strong I grew and tall I grew;
I drank the region's balm and dew,--
It made me lithe in limb and thew,--
How swift I rode and ran!

And oft it was my joy to ride
Over the sand-blown ocean wide
While, ever smiling at my side,
Rode Marta of Milrone.

A flood of horned heads before,
The trampled thunder, smoke and roar,
Of full four thousand hoofs, or more--
A cloud, a sea, a storm!

Oh, wonderful the desert gleamed,
As, man and maid, we spoke and dreamed
Of love in life, till white wastes seemed
Like plains of paradise.

Her eyes with Love's great magic shone.
"Be mine, O Marta of Milrone,--
Your hand, your heart be all my own!"
Her lips made sw