Page 41 - Albert's Buck Horn Saloon

HELL IN TEXAS TEXAS A PARADISE
By the Author of "Texas a Paradise."
By the author of "Hell in Texas," two years later after the drouth was broken.
The Devil in hell we're told was chained,
And a thousand years he there remained.
He neither complained nor did he groan,
But determined to start a hell of his own
Where he could torment the souls of men
Without being chained in a prison pen.
So he asked the Lord if he had on hand
Anything left when he made this land.
The Lord said, "Yes, I had plenty on band,
But I left it down on the Rio Grande;
The fact is, 'old boy,' the stuff is so poor,
I don't think you can use it in hell any more."
But the Devil went down to look at the truck,
And said if he took it as a gift he was stuck,
For after examining it carefully and well,
He concluded the place was too dry for a hell.
So in order to get it off His hand
The Lord promised the Devil to water the land,
For He had some water or rather some dregs,
A regular cathartic and smelled like bad eggs.
Hence the trade was closed, the deed was given,
And the Lord went back to His home in Heaven;
The Devil said to himself. "I have all that is needed
To make a good hell," and hence he succeeded.
He began by putting thorns all over the trees,
And mixed up the sand with millions of fleas;
He scattered tarantulas along the roads,
Put thorns on cactus, and horns on the toads.
He lengthened the horns on the Texas steers,
And put an addition to the rabbits' ears;
He put a little devil in the broncho steed,
And poisoned the feet of the centipede.
The rattlesnake bites you, the scorpion stings,
The mosquito delights you with his buzzing wings;
The sand-burrs prevail, and so do the ants,
And those who sit down need half-soles on their pants
The Devil then said that throughout the land
He'd arrange to keep up the Devil's own brand,
And all should be Mavericks unless they bore
Marks or scratches, of bites and thorns by the score.
The heat in the summer is one hundred and ten,
Too hot for the Devil and too hot for men;
The wild boar roams through the black chaparral;
'Tis a hell of a place that he has for a hell.
The Lord said he wished to show
To His erring children here below
That He had plenty in His store
For those who knocked at Heaven's door,
And hence would give to some bright land
Samples of blessings from His right hand;
And if you think there's cause to doubt it,
Just listen to how God reasoned about it.
These gifts I can't give to the States in the East,
The weather's too damp for both man and beast;
And the Northern States I consider together,
I made a mistake when I put up their weather.
For in blizzards and cyclones, tornadoes and cold,
No one can enjoy good gifts, I am told,
'Tis too cold, hence westward I shall gb,
To the land where the fig and orange tree grow.
For here it is true is a beautiful land,
But then there's the fogs, the dust and the sand;
And those who enjoy these gifts as they must
Can't do it in the sand and the fogs and the dust.
At last reaching Texas, a State of some size,
He decided to give her His capital prize;
And opening wide His bountiful hand,
He dispersed His blessings all over the land.
And hence we enjoy as these blessings of ours
Ten months in the year the most beautiful flowers;
And nights most delightful, fanned by the breeze
That comes sweeping across her from over the seas.
And Italy's skies with our own won't compare;
Nor is her land more fertile nor her ladies more fair;
And the grasses that grow on these ranges of ours
Are kept beautifully green by the sweet summer shower,.
And, as we know, to enjoy our wealth,
We must first secure the blessings of health;
Thence we declare to the sick in each clime
That health you can have if you come here in time.
And now to our friends in the East, North and West,
We want you to come here and with us be blest;
For God never intended that we all alone
Should enjoy all these blessings that He has bestown.