Come all you jolly cowboys, who follow the bronco steer
I'll sing to you a verse or two your spirits for to cheer
I'll tell you all about a trip that I did undergo
On the crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizon-i-o.
On February the seventeenth our herd it started out.
It would have made you shudder to hear them bawl and shout.
As wild as any buffalo that ever roamed the Platte,
The cattle we were driving, and every one was fat.
We crossed the Mescal Mountains and how the wind did blow.
A blizzard was ii-raging and the pass was deep in snow.
But the pointers kept'em headed and the drag men pushed'em
On the crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizon-i-o.
One night we hiid a stampede -Lord, how the cattle run!
We made it to our borses, but boys it was no fun.
Over prickly peir and catclaw brush we quickly made our way,
We thought of'our long joumey and the girls we left one day.
When we got to Gilson Flats, tbe wind did surely blow.
It blew so hard and blew so fierce, we knew not where to go.
But our spirits never failed us an onward we did go
On the crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizon-i-o.
| It's along by Sombrero we slowly punched along
While each and every puncher would sing a hearty song
To cheer up all his comrades as onward we did go
On the crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizon-i-o.
We crossed the rugged Mogollon where tall pine forests grow
The grass was in abundance and rippling streams did flow
Our packs were always turning, of course our gait was slow
On the crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizon-i-o.
At last we got to Holbrook and a little breeze did blow
It blew up sand and pebbles and it didn't blow them slow,
We had to drink the water from that muddy little stream
And swallowed a peck of gravel when we trid to eat a bean
And when the herd was sold and shipped and homeward we were bound
With as tired a string of horses as ever could be found
Across the reservation, no danger did we fear,
We thought of wives and sweethearts, the ones we loved so dear.
We're now back in Globe City, our friendships there to share
Here's luck to every puncher who follows the bronco steer
My best advice to you, boys,is try and never go
On the crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizon-i-o.
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