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BRONCHO VERSUS BICYCLE
T
HE first that we saw of the high-tone tramp
War over thar at our Pecos camp; He war comin' down the Santa Fe trail Astride of a wheel with a crooked tail, A-skinnin' along with a merry song An' a-ringin' a little warnin' gong. He looked so outlandish, strange and queer That all of us grinned from ear to ear, And every boy on the round-up swore He never seed sich a hoss before. Wal, up he rode with a sunshine smile
An' a-smokin' a cigarette, an' I'll
Be kicked in the neck if I ever seen
Sich a saddle as that on his queer machine.
Why, it made us laugh, fer it wasn't half
Big enough fer the back of a suckin' calf.
He tuk our fun in a keerless way,
A-venturin' only once to say
Thar wasn't a broncho about the place
Could down that wheel in a ten-mile race.
I'd a lightnin' broncho out in the herd
That could split the air like a flyin' bird, 14 |
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