The Little Old Sod Shanty
Traditional, collected by Jules Verne Allen, 1933.
I am looking rather seedy now while holding down my claim
And my victuals are not alway [sic] served the best;
And the mice play shyly round me as I nestle down to rest
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
Oh, the hinges are of leather and the windows have no glass,
And the board roof lets the howling blizzard in.
And I hear the hungry “Kiyote” as he slinks up thru the grass
Round the little old sod shanty on my claim.
CHORUS:
When I left my eastern home, a bachelor so gay,
To try to win my way to wealth and fame,
I never thought I’d come to burning twisted hay
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
CHORUS:
But I rather like the novelty of living in this way,
Though my bill-of-fare is always rather tame,
And I’m happy as a clam on the land of Uncle Sam,
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
My clothes are plastered o’er with mud, I’m looking like a fright,
And every thing is scattered round the room,
Still I wouldn’t give the freedom that I have out in the West
For the comfort of the eastern man’s old home.
CHORUS:
Still I wish some kind-hearted girl would pity on me take;
And relieve me from the mess that I am in;
The angel, how I’d bless her if this her home she’d make
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
CHORUS:
We would make our fortunes on the prairies of the West
Just as happy as two lovers we’d remain;
We’d forget the trials and troubles we endured at the first
In the little old sod shanty on our claim.
CHORUS:
Oh, the hinges are of leather, and the windows have no glass,
And the board roof lets the howling blizzard in.
And I hear the hungry “Kiyote” as he slinks up thru the grass
Round the little old sod shanty on my claim.
And if fate would bless us with now and then an heir,
To cheer our hearts with honest pride and fame;
Oh, then we’d be contented for the toil that we had spent
In the little old sod shanty we call home.
Collected from Cowboy Lore by Jules Verne Allen, 1933, published by the Naylor Company.
I am looking rather seedy now while holding down my claim
And my victuals are not always served the best;
And the mice play slyly round me as I nestle down to rest
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
The hinges are of leather and the windows have no glass,
And the board roof lets the howling blizzards in.
And I hear the hungry coyote as he slinks up through the grass
Round the little old sod shanty on my claim.
Yet I rather like the novelty of living in this way,
Though my bill-of-fare is always rather tame,
But I’m happy as a clam on the land of Uncle Sam,
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
But when I left my eastern home a bachelor so gay,
To try and win my way to wealth and fame,
I little thought that I’d come down to burnin’ twisted hay
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
My clothes are plastered o’er with dough, I’m lookin’ like a fright,
And every thing is scattered round the room,
But I wouldn’t give the freedom that I have out in the West
For the table of the eastern man’s old home.
Still I wish that some kind-hearted girl would pity on me take;
And relieve me from the mess that I am in;
Oh the angel, how I’d bless her if this place her home she’d make
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
And we would make our fortunes on the prairies of the West
Just as happy as two lovers we’d remain;
We’d forget the trials and troubles we endured at the first
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
And if fate would kindly bless us both with now and then an heir,
To cheer our hearts with honest pride of fame;
Oh, then we’d be contented for the toil we had spent
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.
Collected from Brunswick 564, as sung by Marc Williams “The Cowboy Crooner”, recorded November 26, 1930.