from: Little Wandersongs
I'm sick of school and sick of home,
An' so I've started out
Acrost the western plains to roam
And be a noble scout,
Home ain't a bit ad-vent-u-rus,
You can't have any fun,
An' my! there'd be a fearful fuss,
If I should get a gun.
An' so I've packed my haversack
As skillful as I can,
An' I ain't never comin' back
Till I'm a famous man;
Till I have slayed a injun chief
An' shot a grizzly bear,
An' maybe chased a cattle thief
An' ketched him in his lair.
* * * * * *
I guess I'm far away, all right,
An' awful hungry, too;
It's awful dark outside tonight;
I'm kinda scared, ain't you?
I want my mama and my dad ...
It ain't no fun to roam;
I'm just a tired little lad,
Please, Mister, take me home!