Frank Maynard

A Reckless Cowboy

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I am a reckless cowboy, the prairie is my home,
At the early age of sixteen I first began to roam,
I drove from sunny Texas, in the year of seventy-one,
When the boys all came to Newton and kicked up lots of fun.

Next summer found me ranging on the raging Arkansaw,
Where we all grew wild and lawless, in the town of Wichita,
From thence I drifted westward, to a country wild and strange,
In the valley of the Salt Fork, I found a winter range.

The winter was so dreary, I thought 'twould never end,
And when at last 'twas springtime, we drove up to Great Bend.
Next winter found me ranging on the Medicine Lodge,
Headquarters for the last year, was the reckless town of Dodge.

There, gamblers, shrewd and tricky, are watchful as a cat,
To trap some luckless snoozer from Texas or the Platte.
Now, I am like an Indian, I never can find rest,
For settlements keep pushing farther toward the west.
So, farewell, friends and kindred and all I once held dear,
I am a reckless cowboy far out on the frontier.

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Frank Maynard