Sweet Kate and the Wagon Master

By: Fee

It was in the spring of forty-nine

That I first spied my own sweet Kate

I was Wagon Master out of Missouri

Riding hell bound to meet my fate

She was on a prairie schooner

With just a dream and her old dog

In her homespun gown of yeller

And her bonnet green as a frog

I tipped my hat with hand on gun

Asked her would her man be right along

She shook her head and said sadly no

For him the Angels sang their song

Two thousand miles ahead of us

At only fifteen miles a day

Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming

We struggled in every way

With the Cheyenne tribes to the North

And to the South the Pawnee land

We circled the wagons every night

And always kept my rifle close at hand

And each night I’d stop and visit

Drank coffee black as a moonless sky

 Sharing bacon cooked over buffalo chips

And together love struck we would sigh

We had watched Chlolera take so many

By the time the Idaho moon met Oregon sun

We knew life was short, love was sweet

So our two bedrolls soon became just one

Now in the Year of Our Lord of 1850

On the Rocky Mountains South side

We found a gold digging preacher man

Who made sweet Kate my legal bride

And the wagon master settled down

On a little spread with a hundred head

I found my gold and my treasure too

Each night in my sweet Kate's bed…