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The Railroad Corral |
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For you can bet all true punchers will help out the
cook. Come shake out your rawhide and snake it up
fair; Come break your old broncho to take in his share; Come from your steers in the long chaparral, For 'tis all in the drive to the railroad corral.
But the longest of days must reach evening at last,
The hills all climbed, the creeks all past;
The tired herd droops in the yellowing light;
Let them loaf if they will, for the railroad's in sight. So flap up your holster and snap up your belt, And strap up your saddle whose lap you have felt; Good-bye to the steers from the long chaparral, For there's a town that's a trunk by the railroad corral. |
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3i9 |
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