Here's a more recent one:

http://www.davefredrickson.net/fair_maid_from_the_plains.htm


And Mellinger E. Henry's version:

                      DEATH OF A MAIDEN FAIR
"Obtained from Miss Rachel Tucker, Varnell, Georgia, December, 1930. Miss Tucker is the granddaughter of Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Harmon, formerly of Cade's Cove, Tennessee.

1. There was a fair maiden;
She lived on the plains;
She helped me herd cattle
Through the cold rain and snow.

2.She help me herd cattle
The year in and up;
She would take a drink with me
From the strong whisky cup.

3. She drink as strong whisky
That effects a man's soul;
She help me herd cattle
Through the cold rain and snow.

4.I learned her the cow trade,
A ranger's command,
How to hold a six-shooter
In a neat little hand.

5. How to hold a six-shooter
And never to run
As long as she had a bullet
Or a load for her gun.

8. We camp by the canyon
In the fall of the year;
We stood there one season
With a herd of fat steers.

7. The red skins broke on us
In the middle of the night.

8.She arose from her bed
With a gun in each hand:
'Come, all of you young cowboys,
Let's win this fair land.'

9. Loud roared the thunder
And down came the rain;
In come a stray bullet
And blew out her brains."

10. I jumped in my saddle
And this was the cry:
"Come, all of you young cowboys,
Right here we must die,
For these redskins has murdered
My dear, darling wife."

Theodore Garrison. "Forty-Five Folk Songs Collected from Searcy County Arkansas," Mid-America Folklore, Vol. 30, Fall 2002, pp. 167-168:

                              THE FAIR LADY

Sung by Mrs. Daisy Turner of Zack, Arkansas, in July, 1942.

There was a fair lady,
Lived out on the plain;
She'd help me herd cattle
Through slow, steady rain.

She'd help me heard cattle
All through the round-up;
She'd drink her red liquor
From a full, brimming cup.

She'd drink her red liquor;
It would affect her own soul.
There was a fair lady
As white as the snow.

We camped at the stock yard
In the fall of the year;
Stayed all of the winter
In the herd of the steers.

The Indians would attack us
Mid-hours of the night;
She owuld rise from her warm bed
The battle to fight.

She would rise from her warm bed;
Now loud she would cry,
"Come, all you brave cowboys,
Right here we must die!"

Loud roared the thunder,
Down poured the rain.
Then came astray bullet
And dashed out her brains.

I sprang to my saddle
With a gun in each hand.
Come all you brave cowboys,
Let's win this fair land.

We'll win this fair land
If it costs me my life,
For the Indians have murdered
My darling sweet wife.

Shining bright rifles,
We fed them cold lead,
Till many an Indian
Lay round that shack dead.


Otis Pierce, born 1902 in Douglas Co., Mo., recorded a version he called "Fair Maiden on the Plains" on the LP "Every Bush and Tree" (Bay 102, 1975).

I've ordered "Two-Gun Cyclone" through my library. Stay tuned.