ARIZONY'S PROBATION
Badger Clark

Though the Utah man wears a dozen yokes,
And Nevada stacks her chips;
They belong to the forty six grow up folks
And nobody minds their slips;
But young Arizony must do right
And her people must be good.
So she'll walk in robes of shining white,
And she jines the sisterhood.
So its long farewell to Old Nick's spell,
To the guns and the doubled fist,
And the men can't score on the wheel no more,
And the ladies can't play whist
Quit your shooting scraps and you can't shoot craps,
Nor indulge any wreckless traits
For a wisdom tooth ends our careless youth
And we're going to jine the States.

At the roundup camp when the stars peep out
And the coyote tunes his harp;
You will find nice cowboys grouped about
Playing marbles on a tarp.
And with lemonade their souls they steep
Till the campfire light grows dim
While the cook reads "Pilgrim's Progress" deep
And the range boss hums a hymn.
Oh, it's adieu to our language grim
And the ways of Grizzly Pete;
All our wild oats crop must be sody pop
And the cueb cigareet.
It is sure a crime, in our sun kissed clime
For the boys to get on skates;
And the long horn kin must shed their sin
Yes we're going to jine the States.

In the gloomy mines and the roaring mills
Where the air was once so blue,
They have changed their ways and assumed the frills
Of the W.C.T.U.
And the fireman sweats but he plans to flee
From the blistery fires to come
And the miner just says, "Oh, dear me,"
If the hard steel whacks his thumb
Oh, it's fond goodbye to our old friend,
Hi, Lo, Jack, and the family tree,
And the miner packs just a bunch of tracts
Where his Climax used to be.
Once Bill and Sam didn't care a...dam
But our wise men legislates
That we've got to be from our sins set free
If we're going to jine the States.

When our Arizony sashays forth
Dust white as her yucca bloom
And the fat old States to the East and North
Will remark as they make her room,
"It is plain to see by your sweet face dear
That you're strange to the ways of sin,
Plumb stainless is a rare thing here,
And we need you bad. Come in."
So it's long farewell to merry...hell
Blue smoke and the red, red paint,
And the first "troubled" that hints we're had
Will be licked till he swears we ain't.
Now the water cart and an icy heart
For the Old Boys tempting baits;
We'll be calm and cold and let on we're old
Now we're going to jine the States.