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38 SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
His rig was kinder keerless, big spurs and high-heeled boots;
He had the reputation that comes when fellers shoots.
His voice was like a bugle upon the mountain height; -»•
His feet were animated and a mighty movin' sight,
When he commenced to holler, "Now, fellers stake your pen.
Lock horns ter all them heifers and rustle them like men;
Saloot yer lovely critters; now swing and let 'em go;
Climb the grapevine round 'em; now all hands do-ce-do.
You maverick, jine the round-up, jess skip the - waterfall,"
Huh, hit was gettin' active, the Cowboys' Christmas Ball.
The boys was tol'able skittish, the ladies powerful neat;
That old brass viol's music just got there with both feet;
That wailin', frisky fiddle, I never shall forget;
And Windy kept a-singin' — I think I hear him yet —
" Oh, yes, chase yer squirrels an cut 'em to our side;
Spur Treadwell to the center, with Cross P Charley's bride;
Doc Hollis down the center, and twine the ladies' chain;
Van Andrews, pen the fillies in big T Diamond's train.