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The Bull-Whacker |
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It's every day at twelve There's something for to do; And if there's nothing else, There's a pony for to shoe; I'll throw him down, And still I'll make him lie; Little pig, big pig, Root hog or die.
Now perhaps you'd like to know
What we have to eat,
A little piece of bread
And a little dirty meat,
A little black coffee,
And whiskey on the sly;
It's whack the cattle on, boys,—
Root hog or die.
There's hard old times on Bitter Creek
That never can be beat,
It was root hog or die
Under every wagon sheet;
We cleaned up all the Indians,
Drank all the alkali,
And it's whack the cattle on, boys,—
Root hog or die.
There was good old times in Salt Lake That never can pass by, It was there I first spied My China girl called Wi. 70 |
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