Canary in a Coal Mine

She wandered like a gypsy to Wyoming, Where she settled in and sojourned for a spell. She found herself a billet at the Hog Ranch, And son, there weren’t no high-tone clientele. It was just a soiled dove’s privy crib Where Martha Jane set up her chicken coop. She was a cowhand’s heartthrob, All buckskin and sutler whiskey. She could drive a team of oxen. She could drive a man to sin. Times she frequented Old Bedlam, Drillin’ with them soldier boys; Some were galvanized Yankees, Some were mere tenderfoot lads. When she wasn’t barkin’ at a knot, She’d be somewhere raisin’ sand. She considered each calamity That buggered her contentment As just another maverick to brand.