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THE DREARY, DREARY LIFE 61 |
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We quit that job an' cook-la-dee,
Down on the oV Bar-G. An' pulled our freight for the lone prair-ee,
Down on the oV Bar-G. For out on the range we could chew an' cuss An' git real mean an' bois-ter-uss, Whar apron-strings they could n't rope us,
Down on the ol' Bar-G.
THE DREARY, DREARY LIFE
An old song, a jumble of several. Authorship unknown. I first heard it at Kingston, New Mexico, sung by a man named Sam Jackson.
A cowboy's life is a dreary, dreary life, Some say it's free from care; Rounding up the cattle from morning till night On the bald prairie so bare.
Just about four o'clock old cook will holler out, 4 "Roll out, boys, it's almost day." Through his broken slumbers the puncher he will ask, Has the short summer night passed away?
The cowboy's life is a dreary, dreary life, He's driven through the heat and cold; While the rich man's a-sleeping on his velvet couch, Dreaming of his silver and gold.
When the spring work sets in, then our troubles
will begin, The weather being fierce and cold; We 're almost froze, with the water on our clothes, And the cattle we can scarcely hold. |
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