Songs of the Cattle Trail and Cow Camp · Chapter
Bar-Z on a Sunday Night explained
A poem describing the rough cowboys of the Bar-Z ranch who, despite their sinful reputation, gather on Sunday nights to sing hymns led by a young boy and accompanied by Dick's fiddle, softening their hearts and making temporary promises of
What happens
A poem describing the rough cowboys of the Bar-Z ranch who, despite their sinful reputation, gather on Sunday nights to sing hymns led by a young boy and accompanied by Dick's fiddle, softening their hearts and making temporary promises of reform.
Themes in this chapter
Community and Camaraderie
The Sunday night hymn-singing brings the rough cowboys together, softening their hearts and creating a shared moment of reflection and promise.
Solitude and Reflection
The music prompts introspection and temporary vows of better behavior, highlighting the cowboys' inner struggles and moments of quiet contemplation.
Characters to notice
- Z Bar Dick
Plays the fiddle that stirs the cowboys' hearts on Sunday nights.
- Unknown Narrator
The speaker, a cowboy on the Bar-Z ranch, describes the Sunday night hymn-singing tradition.
Key passages
“We ain’t no saints on the Bar-Z ranch, ’Tis said—an’ we know who ’tis— “Th’ devil’s laid hold on us, tooth an’ branch, An’ uses us in his biz.””
We're not holy men on the Bar-Z ranch, as everyone says—and we know who says it—the devil has a tight grip on us and uses us for his own purposes.
The narrator acknowledges the ranch's rough reputation while setting up the contrast with their Sunday night behavior.
“When Dick’s ol’ fiddle begins to play A toon—an’ it ain’t no waltz. It digs fer th’ things that are out o’ sight, It delves through th’ toughest crust, It grips th’ heart-strings, an’ holds ’em tight, Till we’ve got ter sing—er bust!”
When Dick's old fiddle starts playing a tune—and it's not a waltz—it reaches deep inside us, breaks through our tough exteriors, and grabs our heartstrings so tightly that we have to sing or burst.
The fiddle's music penetrates the cowboys' hardened facades, forcing an emotional response.
“An’ we makes some promises there an’ then Which we keeps—till we goes to bed— That’s the most could be ast o’ a passel o’ men What ain’t no saints, as I said.”
And we make some promises right then that we keep until we go to bed—that's the best you can ask of a bunch of men who aren't saints, as I said.
The cowboys' good intentions are sincere but short-lived, lasting only until they fall asleep.