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Freighting from Wilcox to Globe
Just fill it up with water,— Sure, there's no harm in that.
Now my clothes are not the finest, Nor are they genteel; But they will have to do me Till I can make another steal. My boots are number elevens, For I swiped them from a chow, And my coat cost dos reals From a little Apache squaw.
Now I have freighted in the sand,
I have freighted in the rain,
I have bogged my wagons down
And dug them out again;
I have worked both late and early
Till I was almost dead,
And I have spent some nights sleeping
In an Arizona bed.
Now barbed wire and bacon
Is all that they will pay,
But you have to show your copper checks
To get your grain and hay;
If you ask them for five dollars,
Old Meyers will scratch his pate,
And the clerks in their white, stiff collars
Say, " Get down and pull your freight."