Chapter 20
When Work is Done This Fall, collected by John Lomax, read for LibriVox.org by Michael Faccio. A group of jolly cowboys, discussing plans at ease, says one, I'll tell you something, boys, if you will listen, please. I am an old cow puncher, and here I'm dressed in rags, and I used to be a tough one and take on great big jags. But I've got a home, boys, a good one, you all know, although I have not seen it since long, long ago. I'm going back to Dixie once more to see them all.
Yes, I'm going to see my mother when the work's all done this fall. After the roundups are over and after the shipping is done, I'm going right straight home, boys, ere all my money is gone. I have changed my ways, boys, no more will I fall. And I am going home, boys, when the work is done this fall When I left home, boys, my mother for me cried
Begged me not to go, boys, for me she would have died My mother's heart is breaking, breaking for me, that's all And with God's help I'll see her when the work's all done this fall That very night this cowboy went out to stand his guard The night was dark and cloudy and storming very hard
The cattle they got frightened and rushed in wild stampede. The cowboy tried to head them, riding at full speed. While riding in the darkness, so loudly did he shout, trying his best to head them and turn the herd about. His saddle horse did stumble and on him did fall.
The poor boy won't see his mother when the work's all done this fall. His body was so mangled, the boys all thought him dead. They picked him up so gently and laid him on a bed. He opened wide, his blue eyes and looking all around. He motioned to his comrades to sit near him on the ground.
Boys, send mother my wages, the wages I have earned. For I'm afraid, boys, my last steer I have turned. I'm going to a new range, I hear my master's call. And I'll not see my mother when the work's all done this fall. Fred, you take my saddle
George, you take my bed Bill, you take my pistol after I am dead And think of me kindly when you look upon them all For I'll not see my mother when the work is done this fall Poor Charlie was buried at sunrise
No tombstone at his head Nothing but a little board And this is what it said Charlie died at daybreak He died from a fall
And he'll not see his mother When the work's all done this fall End of poem This recording is in the public domain
