Little Old Sod Santy
On My Claim

When I left my eastern home, a bachelor so gay
To try and win my way to wealth and fame,
I little thought that I'd wind-up burning twisted hay
In the little old sod shanty on my claim.

Oh the hinges are of leather and the windows have no glass
and the board roof lets the howling blizzard in;
And I hear the hungry coyot' as he slinks up in the grass
'Round my little old sod shanty on my claim.

And the mice play shyly 'round me as I nestle down to rest
In my little old sod shanty in the West.