Now, tell us the truth -- let up on the lies --

Why, what the blazes got into my eyes ? It stings so darn bad ; it almost makes me cry,

When I said at that joke take a laugh.

Well, no more of this, you're blubberin', Grey,

A pretty frontiersman you are. Not a man in this crowd but has his day,

Wrapped up in his blanket and laid away Some long tried friend, and no one to say

A scriptural verse or a prayer.

But Slippery Ben, I can hardly believe

Has give life the slip in this way. For everyone knows he was confounded tough,

With a great kind heart, though his manner was rough, Well, well, now, I do fell queer, sure enough,

But death, you see, must have his way.

Jack, please call the roll; see if any more's The ten names are among the characters ot

gone the old west, and Buffalo Bill. I believe, was

The way Slippery Ben has done. the last to pass over to the rendezvous of an-

Then we'll mount and away for another year, other Court House Rock.

On the prairies green, in the mountains drear, To trap the beaver,, and hunt the deer, From Arkansas to Yellowstone.

Jim Bridger is one, John Nelson's another,

And Gilman, he's two by himself, And we'll count him the third ; then Dick, and

me, Jack Jones, Jack Morrow, Jack Grey --

Jacks three, A good poker hand, but by yonder tree, Is a flush -- Bill Cody -- himself.