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SONGS OF THE COWBOYS |
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It's cloudy in the west, a-lookin' like rain,
And my damned old slicker's in the wagon again.
Crippled my hoss, I don't know how, Ropin' at the horns of a 2-U cow.
We hit Caldwell and we hit her on the fly, We bedded down the cattle on the kill close by.
No chaps, no slicker, and it's pourin' down rain, And I swear, by God, I'll never night-herd again.
Feet in the stirrups and seat in the saddle, I hung and rattled with them longhorn cattle.
Last night I was on guard and the leader broke the
ranks, I hit my horse down the shoulders and I spurred
him in the flanks.
The wind commenced to blow and the rain began to
fall, Hit looked, by grab, like we was goin' to lose 'em
all.
I jumped in the saddle and grabbed holt the horn, Best blamed cow-puncher ever was born.
I popped my foot in the stirrup and gave a little yell, The tail cattle broke and the leaders went to hell.
I don't give a damn if they never do stop; I'll ride as long as an eight-day clock. |
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