THE VAQUERO.[60]

Oh, who is so free as a gallant vaquero? With his beauty of bronze 'neath his shady sombrero: He smiles at his love, and he laughs at his fate, For he knows he is lord of a noble estate: The prairie's his own, and he mocks at the great. "Ho-ho! Hai! Ho-ho! Head 'em off! Turn 'em back! Keep 'em up to the track! Ho-hillo! Ho-hillo! Cric—crac!" Oh, Donna Luisa is proud as she's fair; But she parted last night with a lock of her hair. And under the stars she roams, seeking for rest, While she thinks of the stranger that came from the West; And Juan bears something wrapped up in his breast— "Ho-ho! Hai! Ho-ho! Head 'em off! Turn 'em back! Keep 'em up to the track! Ho-hillo! Ho-hillo! Cric—crac!'" His proudest possessions are prettily placed, His love at his heart, and his life at his waist. And if in a quarrel he happen to fall, Why, the prairie's his grave, and his poncho's[61] his pall, And Donna Luisa—gets over it all! "Ho-ho! Hai! Ho-ho! Head 'em off! Turn 'em back! Keep 'em up to the track! Ho-hillo! Ho-hillo! Cric—crac!" The Padrè may preach, and the Notary frown, But the poblanas[62] smile as he rides through the town: And the Padrè, he knows, likes a kiss on the sly, And the Notary oft has a "drop in his eye," But all that he does is to love and to die— "Ho-ho! Hai! Ho-ho! Head 'em off! Turn 'em back! Keep 'em up to the track! Ho-hillo! Ho-hillo! Cric—crac!"