Come, give me your attention, and see the right and wrong
It is a simple story and won't detain you long
I'II try to tell the reason why we are bound to roam
And why we are so friendless and never have a home.
My home is in the saddle, upon a pony's back;
I am a roving Cow-boy and find the hostile track
They say I am a sure shot, and danger I never knew,
But I have often heard the story that now I'll tell to you.
In eighteen hundred and sixty-three a little emigrant band
Was massacred by Indians, bound West by overland,
They scalped our noble soldiers, and the emigrants had to die
And the only living captives were two small girls and I.
I was rescued from the Indians by a brave and noble man
Who trailed the thieving Indians and fought them hand to hand
He was noted for his bravery while on an enemy's track
He has a noble history and his name is Texas Jack.
Old Jack could tell a story if he was only here.
Of the trouble and the hardships of the Western pioneer
He would tell you how the mothers and comrades lost their lives
And how the noble fathers were scalped before our eyes.
I was raised among the Cow-boys, my saddle is my home
And I'll always be a Cow-boy, no difference where I roam
And like our noble heroes, my help I volunteer
And try to be of service to the Western pioneer.
I am a roving Cow-boy, I've worked upon the trail
l've shot the shaggy buffalo and heard the coyote's wail
I have slept upon my saddle, and covered by the moon
I expect to keep it up, dear friends, until I meet my doom.
From Cowboy and Western Songs, Fife and Fife
Text from Clark Stanley, 1905; Tune from Ezra Barhight