<p class="tit-song">DAN TAYLOR <span class="pagenum"><SPAN id="page051" name="page051"></SPAN>(p. 051)</span></p>
<p>Dan Taylor is a rollicking cuss,<br/>
A frisky son of a gun,<br/>
He loves to court the maidens<br/>
And he savies how it's done.</p>
<p>He used to be a cowboy<br/>
And they say he wasn't slow,<br/>
He could ride the bucking bronco<br/>
And swing the long lasso.</p>
<p>He could catch a maverick by the head<br/>
Or heel him on the fly,<br/>
He could pick up his front ones<br/>
Whenever he chose to try.</p>
<p>He used to ride most anything;<br/>
Now he seldom will.<br/>
He says they cut some caper in the air<br/>
Of which he's got his fill.</p>
<p>He is done and quit the business,<br/>
Settled down to quiet life,<br/>
And he's hunting for some maiden<br/>
Who will be his little wife,—</p>
<p>One <span class="pagenum"><SPAN id="page052" name="page052"></SPAN>(p. 052)</span> who will wash and patch his britches<br/>
And feed the setting hen,<br/>
Milk old Blue and Brindy,<br/>
And tend to baby Ben.</p>
<p>Then he'll build a cozy cottage<br/>
And furnish it complete,<br/>
He'll decorate the walls inside<br/>
With pictures new and sweet.</p>
<p>He will leave off riding broncos<br/>
And be a different man;<br/>
He will do his best to please his wife<br/>
In every way he can.</p>
<p>Then together in double harness<br/>
They will trot along down the line,<br/>
Until death shall call them over<br/>
To a bright and sunny clime.</p>
<p>May your joys be then completed<br/>
And your sorrows have amend,<br/>
Is the fondest wish of the writer,—<br/>
Your true and faithful friend.</p>
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