(The same being Maclyn Arbuckle.)
HE WAS bo'n way down in Texas, where the sun is allus shinin'.
An' a cloud's so thin it's easy to observe the silver linin'.
An' he grew among the quaint folk an' the simple folk that labored
In the mint an' melon patches, an' with them for years he neighbored;
An' he stored up all the sunshine in the Texas skies above him
An' the red hearts of the melons, till they're part an' passel of him.
He was Jedge of Bowie county, jedge fer cullud an' fer white folk,
Whar he learned the ways of people, learned the wrong folk an' the right folk,
An' his heart grew big with kindness fer the ones who came with sad things
An' his face grew round with smilin' at the ones who came with glad things.
Fer the Jedge of Bowie county all his early days was storin'
Up the laughter of old Texas that should set us all a-roarin.'
Now the spices of the mint patch an' the juices of the melon
Seem to sorter drip an' trickle through the stories that he's tellin;
An' he shakes our sides with laughter, and he leads us all to gladness,
Till we've plum forgot the troubles that have caused us any sadness;
Oh, it seems that life is giviii' us an extra joyous bounty
When it lets us sit an' listen to the Jedge of Bowie County.
