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COWBOYS VICTIMIZED 49 |
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Case o' love at first sight, reckon — On my part, you understand — An' I swore she'd soon be packin' This same ol' cow-puncher's brand. Went into the game an' won 'er, From all rivals yanked the prize; Cut 'er from the bunch an' run 'er Off before their jealous eyes.
How she's mine. There ain't a prouder Rider on the ranges, see? Mortal could n't yawp no louder Crackin' up her worth than mo. From the crupper to the snaffle She's a thorrerbred, that mare, That I won at Johnson's raffle At the T ranch on the Bear. |
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COWBOYS VICTIMIZED
By James Barton Adams
1 first heard this song in El Paso, Texas, at a Stock Association meeting, sung between supper and breakfast by a man with a good voice, and long afterwards learned the author's name.
We had all made the guess by the cut of his dress
an' the tenderfoot style that he slung, An' the way that he spun toney language that run
slick as grease from the p'int of his tongue, That he was a red-hotter from over the water, a juke
or a markis, or wuss, Than that in his rank, an' we thought we could bank
on havin' some fun with the cuss. |
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