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102 SONGS OF THE COWBOYS |
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They cussed warm holes in the blizzard's teeth when waitin' fer grub and tents,
But the comforts of home we alius brung though at times at our expense.
We have sweated and swore in the desert land
where the white sand glares like snow, A-rompin' around forty rods from hell playin' tag
with Geronimo; We larruped the jacks when the bullets flew and
then when 't was gettin' too hot, We used for our breastworks mules, dead mules,
and we give 'em back shot for shot.
We never was rigged up purty, of course, and we
did n't talk too perlite, But we brung up the joltin' wagon train to the trail
end of every fight; We made a trail through the hostile lands and our
whip was the victory's key, So why in the name of all that's fair can't we figger
in history? |
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MUSTANG GRAY
Authorship credited to Tom Grey, Tularosa, New Mexico. I first heard it sung by a man named Sanford, who kept a saloon in La Ascension, Mexico, about 1888.
There was a brave old Texan, They called him Mustang Gray; He left his home when but a youth, Went ranging far away. |
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