Bills home agin from Europe, where he featured with a show,
But he dont talk none about it his words jest seem to flow
On the subject of home-comin, and this glorious Southwest land,
Which talk, to all us people, is some hard to onderstand.
The stage-driver was tellin when he hit the sagebrush flat
Thats south of Cactus Center, Bill jest wept behind his hat,
And he nearly went plum dotty, his joy was so intense,
At the prairie dogs a-scoldin behind each wire fence.
When the driver stopped at Arid, fer a meal and fer a rest,
Bill pinned a sprig of cactus like a flower on his vest;
He couldnt eat fer lookin at that endless, dreary plain
I guess it makes men homesick fer to cross the ragin main.
So we let Bill kinder babble bout these things we know so well,
And were all a-waitin, patient, for the glories he will tell;
In a week or two hell see things like he hadnt been away
But the homin joy has got him on the locoed list to-day.
