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American Ballads and Folk Songs |
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IN TOWN
Whee—oop! Whoop—eee!
Does any one find any flies on me?
Say! I am the king of the cow-puncher clan,
A sizable sort of a fightin' man,
With my lungs full of air, an' my pockets of cash,
Achin' an' longin' to make it flash,
Ready for anything wise or rash 5
Come on, you fellers, the round's on me!
Whee—oop! Whoop—eee!
Here's all my wad, an' I'm blowin' it free! Fruit of six months on the lonely old plains— Usin' it simply to addle my brains; Gamblers an' women an' barkeeps will take— Send me back broke to the round-up—but then That is their business, so—fill 'em again! I came into town for a helluva spree, An' I'm havin' it, ain't I? Whee—oop! Whoop—eee!
Whee—oop! Whoop—eee! I know I'm a fool, an' a fool I will be Till a nice little girlie says, "Billy, be wise," An' I gather some wisdom from readin' her eyes. But there ain't any girl of that sort who's my friend, An' the other kind tell me to "Spend, Billy, spend!" So I'm havin' my fun in the best way I know; The dollars come hard, an' it's easy they go— Well, fill 'em up, partners, the drinks are on me! Whee—oop! Whoop—eee! |
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