ARROYO AL'S COW-PONY
By J. A. Squires, Helena, Montana
I first heard this sung in a cow-camp in Guadalupe Mountains, New Mexico.
I took a trip this summer to the market,
And I struck an Eastern city where they sell you tubs of beers;
I was feelin' pretty yowlish and I could n't say my name,
When I wound up somehow 'nuther at a high-toned polo game.
And I struck an Eastern city where they sell you tubs of beers;
I was feelin' pretty yowlish and I could n't say my name,
When I wound up somehow 'nuther at a high-toned polo game.
There were sunburned doods cavortin' on some ponies in a lot,
And they whacked a little ball till it traveled like a shot;
I could n't savvy, nohow, and I vowed that I was through,
When I spied a feller ridin' on a pony that I knew.
And they whacked a little ball till it traveled like a shot;
I could n't savvy, nohow, and I vowed that I was through,
When I spied a feller ridin' on a pony that I knew.
It was that there buckskin bronco that I rode for the Circle Bar;
He was clipped and oiled and powdered, but I knew each old-time scar;
I had lost him when Bear Hawkins played an extra ace and jack,
And I'd allus had a longin' fer to git that pony back.
He was clipped and oiled and powdered, but I knew each old-time scar;
I had lost him when Bear Hawkins played an extra ace and jack,
And I'd allus had a longin' fer to git that pony back.
Well, he sorter stopped and snorted when I give an old-time "Yip!"
And he bucked until his rider hit the ground upon his hip;
And he bucked until his rider hit the ground upon his hip;
