The delectable ballad of the waller lot

 Up yonder in Buena Park
There is a famous spot,
In legend and in history
Yclept the Waller Lot.
There children play in daytime And lovers stroll by dark, For 't is the goodliest trysting-place In all Buena Park.
Once on a time that beauteous maid, Sweet little Sissy Knott, Took out her pretty doll to walk Within the Waller Lot.
While thus she fared, from Ravenswood Came Injuns o'er the plain, And seized upon that beauteous maid And rent her doll in twain.
Oh, 't was a piteous thing to hear Her lamentations wild; She tore her golden curls and cried: "My child! My child! My child!" Alas, what cared those Injun chiefs How bitterly wailed she? They never had been mothers, And they could not hope to be! "Have done with tears," they rudely quoth, And then they bound her hands; For they proposed to take her off To distant border lands.
But, joy! from Mr.
Eddy's barn Doth Willie Clow behold The sight that makes his hair rise up And all his blood run cold.
He put his fingers in his mouth And whistled long and clear, And presently a goodly horde Of cow-boys did appear.
Cried Willie Clow: "My comrades bold, Haste to the Waller Lot, And rescue from that Injun band Our charming Sissy Knott!" "Spare neither Injun buck nor squaw, But smite them hide and hair! Spare neither sex nor age nor size, And no condition spare!" Then sped that cow-boy band away, Full of revengeful wrath, And Kendall Evans rode ahead Upon a hickory lath.
And next came gallant Dady Field And Willie's brother Kent, The Eddy boys and Robbie James, On murderous purpose bent.
For they were much beholden to That maid - in sooth, the lot Were very, very much in love With charming Sissy Knott.
What wonder? She was beauty's queen, And good beyond compare; Moreover, it was known she was Her wealthy father's heir! Now when the Injuns saw that band They trembled with affright, And yet they thought the cheapest thing To do was stay and fight.
So sturdily they stood their ground, Nor would their prisoner yield, Despite the wrath of Willie Clow And gallant Dady Field.
Oh, never fiercer battle raged Upon the Waller Lot, And never blood more freely flowed Than flowed for Sissy Knott! An Injun chief of monstrous size Got Kendall Evans down, And Robbie James was soon o'erthrown By one of great renown.
And Dady Field was sorely done, And Willie Clow was hurt, And all that gallant cow-boy band Lay wallowing in the dirt.
But still they strove with might and main Till all the Waller Lot Was strewn with hair and gouts of gore - All, all for Sissy Knott! Then cried the maiden in despair: "Alas, I sadly fear The battle and my hopes are lost, Unless some help appear!" Lo, as she spoke, she saw afar The rescuer looming up - The pride of all Buena Park, Clow's famous yellow pup! "Now, sick'em, Don," the maiden cried, "Now, sick'em, Don!" cried she; Obedient Don at once complied - As ordered, so did he.
He sicked'em all so passing well That, overcome by fright, The Indian horde gave up the fray And safety sought in flight.
They ran and ran and ran and ran O'er valley, plain, and hill; And if they are not walking now, Why, then, they're running still.
The cow-boys rose up from the dust With faces black and blue; "Remember, beauteous maid," said they, "We've bled and died for you!" "And though we suffer grievously, We gladly hail the lot That brings us toils and pains and wounds For charming Sissy Knott!" But Sissy Knott still wailed and wept, And still her fate reviled; For who could patch her dolly up - Who, who could mend her child? Then out her doting mother came, And soothed her daughter then; "Grieve not, my darling, I will sew Your dolly up again!" Joy soon succeeded unto grief, And tears were soon dried up, And dignities were heaped upon Clow's noble yellow pup.
Him all that goodly company Did as deliverer hail - They tied a ribbon round his neck, Another round his tail.
And every anniversary day Upon the Waller Lot They celebrate the victory won For charming Sissy Knott.
And I, the poet of these folk, Am ordered to compile This truly famous history In good old ballad style.
Which having done as to have earned The sweet rewards of fame, In what same style I did begin I now shall end the same.
So let us sing: Long live the King, Long live the Queen and Jack, Long live the ten-spot and the ace, And also all the pack.

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