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The Buffalo Skinners
Pease River's as salty as hell fire, the water I could
/lever go,— O God! I wished I had never come to the range of
the buffalo.
Our meat it was buffalo hump and iron wedge bread, And all we had to sleep on was a buffalo robe for a
bed; The fleas and gray-backs worked on us, O boys, it
was not slow, I'll tell you there's no worse hell on earth than the
range of the buffalo.
Our hearts were cased with buffalo hocks, our souls
were cased with steel, And the hardships of that summer would nearly
make us reel. While skinning the damned old stinkers our lives
they had no show, For the Indians waited to pick us off on the hills of
Mexico.
The season being near over, old Crego he did say The crowd had been extravagant, was in debt to
him that day, — We coaxed him and we begged him and still it was
no go,— We left old Crego's bones to bleach on the range of
the buffalo. |
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