
Plains Folk: In the West
There is something that has always bothered me about the first verse of the classic homesteading ballad, “Little Old Sod Shanty on the Claim.” I am looking rather seedy now while holding down my claim And my victuals are not always served the best And the mice play slyly ’round me as I lay me down to sleep In my little old sod shanty on the claim No, I’m not afraid of mice--what troubles me is the failure to rhyme. Prairie balladeers were insistent rhymers, and “claim” does not rhyme with “best.” For years I thought we are missing something; there must be an earlier text of the song that celebrates a “little old sod shanty in the West,” in order to rhyme with “best.” So now I find--thank God, because this has really bugged me over the years--there is such a text, in the National Tribune of 12 April 1883.