Cheyenne

Have ?u been to Cheyenneï Thern'3 the loneliest place, The drearest and searcst You'H find on the face Of the earth, and hard by Lieth Laramie town, Once a camp of renown As the home of Bill Nye. Empty bottlea and gravel And cactus and cans, Broken vows and old hoops Scent the hot wind that fans The parched plain. Going back To the bottle and can, I was broke in Cheyenne. Yeara af ter I sut In the manager's car As it slipped o'er the steel Trail with never a jar. And out train orders ran Us by way of Cheyenne. What a wonderful changa Had come over the placel Oh, the women were fairl There was one who had eyes Just the hue of the skiea, And the low winds were soft. And the things that were quaffed- Well, we laid over there. "Ah, so much dependa," I said, with a sigh, As the hours flew by, "On a friend and his frienda. Say, Deuel, how can We go way frora Cheyenne?"