Classic Dancing in Cactus Center
Down here in Cactus Center we have lived a life apart;
We’ve been far, we’re frank in sayin’, from the headquarters of art...
Our work has kept us humpin’, roundin’ up the festive steer;
We admit that things aesthetic find us bringin’ up the rear;
All of which has some small bearin’ on a thing that’s knocked us cold—
That has set the cowboys talkin’ when the cigarettes is rolled,
And has proved to be the reason why the Two-Bar boss has swore
That this Terpsichory goddess gits his O K nevermore.
It started when a lady wrote Bear Hawkins from the East
That she’d like to rent a pasture, if he had one to be leased.
She said she wished to use it for her classic dancin’-school,
And Bear wrote back: 'Dear madam, I am sure a locoed fool,
But I fail to see why pastures beat the schoolhouse dancin’-floor,
Which, of course, it ain’t my worry, as it’s grass you’re payin’ for;
So you’ll find the pasture ready, right behind the main corral,
And I speak up for some lessons for my old friend, Cattle Sal.’
Well, Bear’s eyes stuck out like doorknobs when the dancin’-school arrove,
And jest thirty-eight young women to the cattle ranch he drove;
They was headed by a woman with a most determined jaw—
The kind who, in all comp’ny constitoots herself the law;
And she said: ‘Now, Mister Hawkins, we have come here to the West
To create some classic dances that will give our art new zest.
For among those wild surroundings it will be no trick to find
Some stunts to make Pavlowa fade from out the public mind.’
When Old Pete went out, next sunrise, for to rope his pinto hoss,
He thought he saw ghosts dancin’, and he called upon the boss;
And the boss, though he’d been sober for a week, or maybe more,
Thought he must be seein’ visions like he never seen before;
‘Cause those dancers were disportin’, all in robes of dazzlin’ white,
And Old Pete says: 'Boss, I’m quittin’—you kin pay me off to-night.
As it’s me for Cactus Center, lest I feel disposed to prance
And to tramp down good alfalfa in this sort of classic dance.’
Well, there was n’t much work doin’ in the round-up gang for days;
There was cows that went unbranded, and good steers was lost as strays;
The cowboys sat for hours on the top rail of the fence
And watched the classic dancers, as they flitted here and whence,
Till Bear Hawkins said: 'Dear madam, you must sure detour your freight;
While we like your classic dancin’, we must hand it to you straight
That you’ve got our punchers locoed, and the case is just this size:
You must quit this cattle country, or the price of beef will rise.’
Thought the leader was offended, Hawkins took his stand quite firm,
And the dancers started Eastward, cuttin’ short their Wild West term;
But they’ve left a deep impression, and the boys don’t give two hoots
In reels and clogs, and such things, for to agitate their boots;
And when the schoolhouse dances are given, now and then,
You can hear the whispered comments 'mong a lot of wall-flower men,
And you know that they are talkin’ of the palpitatin’ days
When we got our introduction to the classic dancin’ craze.
