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londis-carpenterPoems
Tamaker I won her on a whiskey bet, At a place called Rusty's Shack, In a poker game in Fargo With three deuces and a Jack. I took her from a mountain man Who had bought her in a trade, For a rifle and a jug of Rye, Off an Indian renegade. I had no yen to keep her; I meant to set her free. I never thought she'd want to stay, Or that she'd follow me. I told her she was free to go, No longer be a slave. But the squaw refused to leave me, Called me her Paleface Brave. And when I rode out of Fargo, Headed for Cheyenne, She followed every trail I took, No matter the terrain. I couldn't seem to lose her No matter how I tried. By the time I got to Deadwood She was riding by my side. We rode hard through a valley, Forged across Powder Creek, When I fell from my saddle Three miles from Miner's Peak. My saddle pony stumbled And landed on my knee. He broke his leg and I broke mine Unable to get free. If I hadn't had that Indian squaw, A maiden called Tamaker, I be wearing a peg-leg now, Or living with my maker. She patched me up and catered me With herbs and Indian lore, Until my health and strength returned And I was whole once more. And when we finally reached Cheyenne, Still riding side by side, We found a cowboy preacher And I made her my bride. The squaw I met at Rusty's shack, Won on a whiskey bet, Became the lady of my dreams And we're together yet.
0
Jul 29, 2011
Jul 29, 2011 at 7:28 AM UTC
Tamaker
Tamaker I won her on a whiskey bet, At a place called Rusty's Shack, In a poker game in Fargo With three deuces and a Jack. I took her from a mountain man Who had bought her in a trade, For a rifle and a jug of Rye, Off an Indian renegade. I had no yen to keep her; I meant to set her free. I never thought she'd want to stay, Or that she'd follow me. I told her she was free to go, No longer be a slave. But the squaw refused to leave me, Called me her Paleface Brave. And when I rode out of Fargo, Headed for Cheyenne, She followed every trail I took, No matter the terrain. I couldn't seem to lose her No matter how I tried. By the time I got to Deadwood She was riding by my side. We rode hard through a valley, Forged across Powder Creek, When I fell from my saddle Three miles from Miner's Peak. My saddle pony stumbled And landed on my knee. He broke his leg and I broke mine Unable to get free. If I hadn't had that Indian squaw, A maiden called Tamaker, I be wearing a peg-leg now, Or living with my maker. She patched me up and catered me With herbs and Indian lore, Until my health and strength returned And I was whole once more. And when we finally reached Cheyenne, Still riding side by side, We found a cowboy preacher And I made her my bride. The squaw I met at Rusty's shack, Won on a whiskey bet, Became the lady of my dreams And we're together yet.
Written by
londis-carpenter
American
Jul 29, 2011
Jul 29, 2011 at 7:28 AM UTC
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