COWBOY LYRICS - online book

A Large Collection of Traditional Cowboy lyrics & songs

Home Main Menu Singing & Playing Order & Order Info Support Search Voucher Codes

Share page  Visit Us On FB

Previous Contents Next
Cowboy Lyrics
(A Visit with the Handsome and Popular Editor of the Lariet Lyre)
He has a press he jerks by hand, An* Fridays he will take his stand, An' let a kid roll on the ink To grease the type, an' then he'll think It's time to take a smoke, by jing! An' then he'll stop an' leave the thing, An' grab a corn-cob from somewhere, An' with his feet up in the air, He'll say, "Well, boys, how's stock an'feed? A little snow is what we need—-Much sickness out your way these times? I hear Miss Jones weds Billy Grimes, I lets their write-up front page take, They sends me chunk o' weddin' cake. An' poor old Cribs he upped an' died— His 'bituary bucked an' pied— But then I sets it up agin, A-speakin* of the home he'll win, An' all the virtoos that he had, Fergettin' nothin* but the bad— You wants some papers? sure, you bet! Jes' help yourself, they's fresh an' wet-No, takin' money is a bribe— Unless you figgers to—subscribe—