Come, all you young waddies, I'II sing you a song
Stand back from the wagon, stay where you belong
I've heard you observin' I'm fussy and slow,
While you're punchin' the cattle and I'm punchin' dough.
Now I reckon your stomach would grow to your back
If it wa'n't for the cook that keeps fillin' the slack
With the beans in the box and the pork in the tub
I'm a-wonderin' now, who would fill you with grub?
You think you're right handy with gun and with rope
But I've noticed you're bashful when usin' the soap
When you're rollin' your Bull for your brown cigarette
I been rollin' the dough for them biscuits you et.
When you're cuttin' stock, then I'm cuttin' a steak,
When you're wranglin' hosses, I'm wranglin' a cake.
When you're hazin' the dogies and battin' your eyes,
I'm hazin' dried apples that aim to be pies.
You brag about shootin' up windows and lights,
But try shootin' biscuits for twelve appetites;
When you crawl from your roll and the ground it is froze,
Then who biles the coffee that thaws out your nose?
In the old days the punchers took just what they got
It was sow-belly, beans, and the old coffee pot;
But now you come howlin' for pie and for cake,
Then you cuss at the cook for a good bellyache.
You say that I'm old, with my feet on the skids
Well, I'm tellin' you now that you're nothin' but kids
If you reckon your mounts are some snaky and raw,
Just try ridin herd on a stove that won't draw.
When you look at my apron, you're readin' my brand
Four-X, which is sign for the best in the land
On bottie or sack it sure stands for good luck,
So line up, you waddies, and wrangle your chuck.
No use to your snortin' and fightin' your head
If you like it with chili, just eat what I said:
For I aim to be boss of this end of the show
While you're punchin' cattle and I'm punchin' dough.
From Cowboy and Western Songs, Fife and Fife
Text published in Saddle Songs and Other Verse, Houghton Mifflin