Cowboy Songs And Other Frontier Ballads

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The Gol-Darned Wheel
And the wind it made whip-crackers of my same old
canthy hair, And I sorta comprehended as down the hill we went There was bound to be a smash-up that I couldn't
well prevent. Oh, how them punchers bawled, " Stay with her,
Uncle Bill! Stick your spurs in her, you sucker! turn her muzzle
up the hill!" But I never made an answer, I just let the cusses
squeal, I was finding reputation on that gol-darned wheel.
The grade was mighty sloping from the ranch down
to the creek And I went a-galliflutin' like a crazy lightning
streak,— Went whizzing and a-darting first this way and then
that, The darned contrivance sort o' wobbling like the
flying of a bat. I pulled upon the handles, but I couldn't check it up, And I yanked and sawed and hollowed but the
darned thing wouldn't stop. Then a sort of a meachin' in my brain began to
steal, That the devil held a mortgage on that gol-darned