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THE COWBOYS' CHRISTMAS BALL 39 |
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All pull your freight together, now swallow fork and change;
Big Boston, lead the trail herd through little Pitchfork's range.
Purr round yer gentle pussies, now rope and balance all."
Huh, hit were gettin' active—the Cowboys' Christmas Ball.
The dust riz fast and furious; we all jes' galloped
round, Till the scenery got so giddy that T Bar Dick was
downed. We buckled to our pardners and told 'em to hold
on, Then shook our hoofs like lightnin' until the early
dawn. Don't tell me 'bout cotillions, or germans — no,
sir-ee! That whirl at Anson City jes' takes the cake with
me. I'm sick of lazy shufSin's, of them I've had my
fill; Give me a frontier break-down backed up by Windy
Bill. McAllister ain't nowhere, when Windy leads the
show; I've seen 'em both in harness, and so I ought ter
know. Oh, Bill, I shan't forget yer, and I oftentimes
recall That lively gaited sworray — the Cowboys' Christmas Ball. |
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