The Texas Cowboy and the Mexican Greaser
I think we can all remember when a Greaser hadn’t no show
In Palo Pinto particular—it ain’t very long ago;
A powerful feelin’ of hatred ag’in the whole Greaser race
That murdered bold Crockett and Bowie pervaded all in the place.
Why, the boys would draw on a Greaser as quick as they would on a steer;
They was shot down without warnin’ often, in the memory of many here.
One day the bark of pistols was heard ringin’ out in the air,
And a Greaser, chased by some ranchmen, tore round here into the square.
I don’t know what he’s committed—’tain’t likely anyone knew—
But I wouldn’t bet a check on the issue; if you knew the gang, neither would you.
Breathless and bleeding, the Greaser fell down by the side of the wall;
And a man sprang out before him—a man both strong and tall—
By his clothes I should say a cowboy—a stranger in town, I think—
With his pistol he waved back the gang, who was wild with rage and drink.
“I warn ye, get back!” he said, “or I’ll blow your heads in two!
A dozen on one poor creature, and him wounded and bleeding, too!”
The gang stood back for a minute; then up spoke Poker Bill:
“Young man, yer a stranger, I reckon. We don’t wish yer any ill;
But come out of the range of the Greaser, or, as sure as I live, you’ll croak;”
And he drew a bead on the stranger. I’ll tell yer it wa’n’t no joke.
But the stranger moven’ no muscle as he looked in the bore of Bill’s gun;
He hadn’t no thought to stir, sir; he hadn’t no thought to run;
But he spoke out cool and quiet, “I might live for a thousand year
And not die at last so nobly as defendin’ this Greaser here;
For he’s wounded, now, and helpless, and hasn’t had no fair show;
And the first of ye boys that strikes him, I’ll lay that first one low.”
The gang respected the stranger that for another was willing to die;
They respected the look of daring they saw in that cold, blue eye.
They saw before them a hero that was glad in the right to fall;
And he was a Texas cowboy—never heard of Rome at all.
Don’t tell me of yer Romans, or yer bridge bein’ held by three;
True manhood’s the same in Texas as it was in Rome, d’ye see?
Did the Greaser escape? Why certain. I saw the hull crowd over thar
At the ranch of Bill Simmons, the gopher, with their glasses over the bar.