102
SONGS OF THE COWBOYS
They cussed warm holes in the blizzard’s teeth when waitin’ fer grub and tents,
But the comforts of home we allus brung though at times at our expense.
But the comforts of home we allus brung though at times at our expense.
We have sweated and swore in the desert land where the white sand glares like snow,
A-rompin’ around forty rods from hell playin’ tag with Geronimo;
We larruped the jacks when the bullets flew and then when ’t was gettin’ too hot,
We used for our breastworks mules, dead mules, and we give ’em back shot for shot.
A-rompin’ around forty rods from hell playin’ tag with Geronimo;
We larruped the jacks when the bullets flew and then when ’t was gettin’ too hot,
We used for our breastworks mules, dead mules, and we give ’em back shot for shot.
We never was rigged up purty, of course, and we did n’t talk too perlite,
But we brung up the joltin’ wagon train to the trail end of every fight;
We made a trail through the hostile lands and our whip was the victory’s key,
So why in the name of all that’s fair can’t we figger in history?
But we brung up the joltin’ wagon train to the trail end of every fight;
We made a trail through the hostile lands and our whip was the victory’s key,
So why in the name of all that’s fair can’t we figger in history?
MUSTANG GRAY
Authorship credited to Tom Grey, Tularosa, New Mexico. I first heard it sung by a man named Sanford, who kept a saloon in La Ascension, Mexico, about 1888.
There was a brave old Texan,
They called him Mustang Gray;
He left his home when but a youth,
Went ranging far away.
They called him Mustang Gray;
He left his home when but a youth,
Went ranging far away.
