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THE RAILROAD CORRAL1
O H we're up in the morning ere breaking of day, The chuck wagon's busy, the flapjacks in play; The herd is astir o'er hillside and vale, With the night riders rounding them into the trail. Oh, come take up your cinches, come shake out your reins; Come wake your old broncho and break for the plains; Come roust out your steers from the long chaparral, For the outfit is off to the railroad corral.
The sun circles upward; the steers as they plod Are pounding to powder the hot prairie sod; And it seems as the dust makes you dizzy and sick That we'll never reach noon and the cool, shady creek.
But tie up your kerchief and ply up your nag;
Come dry up your grumbles and try not to lag;
Come with your steers from the long chaparral.
For we're far on the road to the railroad corral.
The afternoon shadows are starting to lean, When the chuck wagon sticks in the marshy ravine; The herd scatters farther than vision can look,