Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The Little Cow-girlN. Howard Thorp
D
En Maw from San Antone;
We come here in a wagon
That ud rock en squeak en groan.
The boys come on afore,
En Dad was playin’ all the way
Old Turkey in the Straw!
En Tom, en Si, en Budd—
We all was raised with cattle,
So I guess it’s in our blood.
Folks say I take after Maw—
When Dad takes down his fiddle
En plays Turkey in the Straw!
But we got a good home ranch;
En the little old horse-pasture
Runs clear down to the branch.
Since Dad put hinges on the door,
En with his old brown fiddle
Plays Turkey in the Straw!
That Dad had made fer me,
Er pair er silver-mounted spurs
Es pretty es can be.
En when I get on the floor
I’m sure to hear Dad playin’
Old Turkey in the Straw!
I’ve got ’im on my string;
En everything is lovely—
We’ll be married in the spring;
We’ll be married by the law,
En I kin hear Dad playin’
Old Turkey in the Straw!