|Visit Us On FB
. Cowboy Lyrics
LEM SCOBEY'S OPINION
Lem Scobey says to me one day: "I'm feelin' tired that-o-way, About this wild west guff I reads, Them eastern papers locoed screeds. In the first place I'm here to tell, Real western men don't go an' yell To some news-sharp how they has killed Whole Injun tribes or how they's spilled The blood of forty men or more, An' that their reg'ler feed is gore.
"Real western men don't give a cuss Fer paper praise nor do they fuss An' stand around a-lookin' mad An' hopin' someone thinks 'em bad. Nor do they gab in hot air free Long yarns o' what they uster be. The truest men, the kind that stay, Be them that has the least to say; Such-like are kind an' to the end, You'll find them stickin' to a friend. The papers don't ne'er hear o' these, The mouthy kind is what they sees— The kind that need six mules an' all To simply pack around their gall.