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A Cow Camp on the Range
For they are in a monstrous hurry For the supper's almost done.
" Here's your bloody wolf bait,"
Cried the cook's familiar voice
As he climbed the wagon wheel
To watch the cowboys all rejoice.
Then all thoughts were turned from reverence
To a plate of beef and beans,
As we graze'on beef and biscuits
Like yearlings on the range.
To the dickens with your city Where they herd the brainless brats, On a range so badly crowded There ain't room to cuss the cat. This life is not so sumptuous, Fm not longing for a change, For there is no place so homelike As a cow camp on the range.