STARVING TO DEATH ON MY GOVERNMENT CLAIM (Lane County Bachelor)(Traditional)Richard BooneMy name is Frank Bolar, an old bach’lor I amI’m keeping old batch on an elegant plan,You’ll find me out west in the County of LaneStarving to death on my government claim.My house it is built of the national soilThe walls are erected according to Hoyle,The roof has no pitch, but is level and planeAnd I never get wet till it happens to rain.Then hurrah for Lane County, the land of the freeThe home of the bedbug, mosquito and flea,I’ll sing loud her praises and never complainWhile starving to death on my government claim.My clothes they are ragged, my language is rough,My head is case-hardened, both solid and tough;The dough it is scattered all aver the roomAnd the floor would take fright at the sight of a broom.My dishes are dirty, and some in the bedAre covered with sorghum and government bread;But I have a good time and I live at my easeOn common-sop sorghum, old bacon and grease.Then hurrah for Lane County, the land of the WestWhere the farmers and laborers are always at rest;Where you’ve nothing to do but sweetly remainAnd starve like a man on your government claim.How happy am I when I crawl into bedAnd a rattlesnake rattles a tune at my head;And the gay little centipede, void of all fearCrawls over my pillow ind into my ear.And the nice little bedbug, so cheerful and brightKeeps me a-scratching full half of the night,And the gay little flea with toes sharp as a tackPlays “why don’t you catch me?” all over my back.But hurrah for Lane County, where blizzards ariseWhere the winds never cease and the flea never dies;Where the sun is so hot if in it you remain,’Twill burn you quite black on your government claim.How happy am I on my government claim,Where I’ve nothing to lose and nothing to gain;Nothing to eat and nothing to wear,Nothing from nothing is honest and square.But here I am stuck, and here I must stayMy money’s all gone, and I can’t get away;There’s nothing to make a man hard and profaneLike starving to death on a government claim.Then come to Lane County, there’s room for you allWhere the winds never cease and the rains never fall.Come join in the chorus, and boast of her fameWhile starving to death on your government claim.Now don’t get discouraged, you poor hungry men,We’re all here as free as a pig in a pen;Just stick to your homestead and battle your fleasAnd pray to your Maker to send you a breeze.Now a word to claim holders who are bound for to stayYou may chew on your hardtack till you’re toothless and gray;But as for me, I’ll no longer remainAnd starve like a dog on my government claim.Then farewell to Lane County, farewell to the WestI’ll travel back East to the girl I love best;I’ll stop in Missouri and get me a wifeAnd live on corn dodgers the rest of my life.
Government Claim to starving:
Bugs! Snakes! Dirt! No food! No Thanks! Hope old Frank Bolar finds “hizself” a wife in Missouri, make that “Mizzourah”.
A very entertaining poem.
Bernie