rederick’s man, hight Ollie, emboldened by the charge,

Stakes his own claim ‘gainst his brother Lando,

Whom Ollie has kept rustically at home,

And trained him like a peasant, never schooled.

Ollie hopes to see an end to him he hates,

Who holds the people’s hearts; –himself de-spised.

Rosie and Lando fall into strong liking,

A thunderbolt of love aflash in their eyes.

At the saloon, Calamity Jim's spirits… are bold! 

He mocks young Lando, (cruel proof of this man’s strength).

Doubtless Sheriff Fred will back his strong man

In hopes the wrestler shall clear all.

Lando will have to leave, though he deserves

High commendation, true applause and love.

Thus will he, from smoke into the smother,

Escape from tyrant Frederick and tyrant brother 

Of late Sheriff Frederick, has ta’en displeasure

’Gainst his gentle niece.  Jealous Frederick 

Hath also banished Rosie, that his own daughter 

CeCe would show more bright and virtuous with

Her cousin gone.  Effective immediately: 

If Rosie be found so near the public square

As twenty miles, she surely diest for it.

The girls will not be sundered, and so devise to fly!

But whither to go, and what to bear with them? Or who?

...They’ll seek Rosie’s father, on Ardenne Range.

For safety, CeCe will don poor and mean attire,

And with a kind of coal smirch on her face.

Rosie will suit herself in all points like a man,

A gallant six-gun on her side, and rope 

In her hand.

Now off they go! in mutual content 

To liberty, and not to banishment.

Ah yes.   All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And we all in our time play many parts.

We now present for your kind approval

A new scene on the range, and new players:

A cowherd, Silas, comes to languish and mourn.

To heave forth such groans as lovers are wont,

Never did man so love, or be so moved

With passion cries out "Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!"

Meanwhile, amongst the cacti and the scrub

Dejected and weary, 

wander Sweet Rosie and CeCe.

The wide ranging range, is lamentable home

To many weary lost and wandering souls,

Our Lando, Rosie’s love, among the rest.

Who else is here? Why, brother Oliver,

Pricked on by conscience for failing to defend

His brother from the evil sheriff’s ire,

Seeks Lando, but who knows what he’ll find?

For anything can hap here on the range.

How now? Who is this sprightly country lass?

Oh, she doth teach the campfires to burn bright!

The painted, perfumed ladies of the town

Did never merit second look from me.

But from this wench, so lively and so fair,

I cannot take my eyes. E’er till now,

When men were fond, I smiled, and wondered how.

But here is Lando, sad and all alone.

He’s longing for his new-met, new-lost love,

Weary with travel, he lays him down to sleep.

Under the stars, asleep and deep dreaming

Cupid brings Lando, full of love seeming,

A vision of dancing with his lovely Rosie,

A dream that compels our Lando, to poesy.

Elsewhere upon the range does CeCe watch,

An honest spy, to keep her cousin safe.

She never could have dreamed who love and fate

Would bring to her on this magical night:

The unkind brother of her cousin’s love!!!!!!

Her gentle heart shall be the guiding light,

To one who still has much to learn of love.

Along comes Rosie, still in man’s attire.

         She hesitates, then lights upon a thought:

         To test his love and for a merry jest,

         She’ll play the boy, a saucy lackey, still,

         And chiding Lando for his foolish love

         And silly poems hung on all the trees,

         She offers him a “cure” for his “disease,”

For love is merely madness, so she claims.

She’ll play the part of Rosie (that’s herself),

But like a peevish, fickle, coy coquette

She’ll show poor Lando what folly ‘tis to love

That he might so be cured and so forget.

And so they woo in jest—

…and not in jest.

But soon will come another loving pair,

And Rosie’s game becomes a coil indeed!

At length, the game well played, does Rosie halt,

And promising to all to do her best

To get for each, the one their heart desires.

Upon the nuptial morn there’s much ado:

The brothers meet and are made friends again.

And Rosie to her lovers will appear,

As lovely BRIDE and not a handsome boy!

To her, both Phebe and Lando have laid claim.

Now you shall see who wins her in the end.

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And we all in our time play many parts.

And now you’ve seen how these parts —and these hearts—

Have come to love and joy in the end.

Proceed, proceed.  We will begin these rites,

As we do trust they’ll end in true delights!