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The Cowboy's Christmas Ball
All pull your freight together, neow swallow fork and change;
Big Boston, lead the trail herd through little Pitchfork's range.
Purr round yer gentle pussies, neow rope and balance all!"
Huh! Hit were gettin' active — the Cowboy's Christmas Ball.
The dust riz fast and furious; we all jes galloped
round, Till the scenery got so giddy that T Bar Dick was
downed. We buckled to our partners and told 'em to hold on, Then shook our hoofs like lightning until the early
dawn. Don't tell me 'bout cotillions, or germans. No
sir-ee! That whirl at Anson City jes takes the cake with me. I'm sick of lazy shufflin's, of them I've had my fill, Give me a frontier break-down backed up by Windy
Bill. McAllister ain't nowhere, when Windy leads the
show; I've seen 'em both in harness and so I ought ter
know. Oh, Bill, I shan't forget yer, and I oftentimes recall That lively gaited sworray — the Cowboy's Christmas Ball.