Crippled my hoss, I don't know how,
Ropin' at the horns of a 2-U cow.
We hit Caldwell and we hit her on the fly,
We bedded down the cattle on the hill close by.
No chaps, no slicker, and it's pourin' down rain,
An' I swear, by God, I'll never night-herd again.
Feet in the stirrups and seat in the saddle,
I hung and rattled with them long-horn cattle.
Last night I was on guard and the leader broke the ranks,
I hit my horse down the shoulders and I spurred him in the flanks.
The wind commenced to blow, and the rain began to fall.
Hit looked, by grab, like we was goin' to lose 'em all.
I jumped in the saddle and grabbed holt the horn,
Best blamed cow-puncher ever was born.
I popped my foot in the stirrup and gave a little yell,
The tail cattle broke and the leaders went to hell.
I don't give a damn if they never do stop;
I'll ride as long as an eight-day clock.
Foot in the stirrup and hand on the horn,
Best damned cowboy ever was born.
I herded and I hollered and I done very well
Till the boss said, 'Boys, just let 'em go to hell.'
Stray in the herd and the boss said kill it,
So I shot him in the rump with the handle of the skillet.
We rounded 'em up and put 'em on the cars,
And that was the last of the old Two Bars.
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