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THE FATE OF THE BEEF STEER 65
And call all the braves and warriors above and be­neath the sod
To rally around his standard and pay homage to their God.
THE FATE OF THE BEEF STEER
By J. W. Foley
Heard this sung at a cow-camp at Solidad Ranch, New Mexico.
Hush-a-by, Long Horn, your pards are all sleepin'; Stop your durn millin' an' tossin' your head, Wavin' your horns so unrestful, an' sweepin' All of the beef herd with eyes big an* red. 1 Mebbe you know when you're pawin' the dust up, Bellerin* ugly an' switchin' your tail; Mebbe you know when you are nearin' the bust-up, Nearin' the quittin' place — end of the trail.
Say, it's a queer trail that you've got to foiler, Scattered all over the face of the land, All of you made into goods but the holler, , Part of you bottled an' part of you canned. Wait till they're through with you till you knock
under; You've got so ticklish a journey to go. All of the round-ups between here an' thunder Could n't locate you, they'll scatter you so.
You think we crowd you — you'll have to go faster; You ain't all steak — you'll discover that, too; Wait till they put your red hair into plaster, Boil down your hoofs into Stickum's Best Glue;






E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III