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I 'M a lonely bull-whacker On the Red Cloud line, I can lick any son of a gun That will yoke an ox of mine. And if I can catch him, You bet I will or try, I'd lick him with an ox-bow,— Root hog or die.
It's out on the road
With a very heavy load,
With a very awkward team
And a very muddy road,
You may whip and you may holler,
But if you cuss it's on the sly;
Then whack the cattle on, boys,—
Root hog or die.
It's out on the road These sights are to be seen, The antelope and buffalo, The prairie all so green,— The antelope and buffalo, The rabbit jumps so high; It's whack the cattle on, boys,— Root hog or die.