The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #162023   Message #4112263
Posted By: Lighter
04-Jul-21 - 07:20 AM
Thread Name: DTStudy: The Devil Made Texas / Hell in Texas
Subject: RE: DTStudy: The Devil Made Texas / Hell in Texas
The Fullerton [Nebraska] Post (Jan. 30, 1899), p. 1. (I've regularized the punctuation and corrected one or two typos):


The Devil in Hell, we're told was chained,
And a thousand years he here remained;
He neither complained nor did he groan,
But resolved to start a hell of his own.

Where he could torment the souls of men
Without being chained in a prison pen;
So he asked the Lord if he had on hand,
Anything left when he made this land.

The Lord said yes, he had plenty on hand,
But left it down by the Rio Grande.
The fact is, old boy, the stuff is so poor
I don't think you can use it in hell any more.

But the Devil went down to look to the truck,
But said if he took it as a gift he was stuck,
For after examining it carefully and well
He concluded the place too dry for a hell.

So in order to get it off from his hand,
The Lord promised the Devil he would water the land,
For he had plenty of water - or rather, some dregs,
A regular cathartic that smelled like bad eggs.

Hence the trade was closed and the deed as given
The Lord went back to his home in heaven.
The Devil said to himself he had all that was needed
To make a good hell, so he succeeded.

He began by putting thorns all over the trees,
He mixed up the sand with millions of fleas.
He scattered tarantulas over the roads,
Put thorns on the cactus and horns on the toads.

He lengthened the horns of the Texas steer,
And put an addition on the rabbit's ears [sic].
He put a little devil in the broncho steed,
And poisoned the feet of the centipede.

The rattlesnake bites you, the scorpion stings,
The mosquito delights you with his buzzing wings.
The sand burr prevails, so do the ants,
And those who sit down need half-soles on their pants.

The Devil then said that through the land
He'd arrange to keep the Devil's [sic] own brand,
And all should be mavericks unless they bore
Marks and scratches, and bites and thorns by the score.

The heat in the summer is one hundred and ten,
Too hot for the devil, and too hot for men;
The wild boar roams through the black chapparell
'Tis a hell of a place he has for a hell.   

                         --ONE WHO HAS BEEN THERE.