I / / / | / / V I
V / I / | / V I /
Well, come along, boys, and listen to my tale;
tell you of my troubles on the old Chisholm Trail.
Come a ti yi yippy, yippy yay, yippy yay,
Come a ti yi yippy, yippy yay.
With a ten-dollar horse and a forty-dollar saddle,
I started in herding these Texas cattle.
I'm up in the morning before daylight;
Before I sleep the moon shines bright.
Oh, it's bacon and beans most every day;
We'll soon be eating this prairie hay.
With my seat in the saddle and my hand on the horn,
I'm the best cowpuncher that ever was born.
No chaps, no slicker, and it's pourin' down rain;
I swear I'll never night-herd again.
Slicker in the wagon and pouring down hail,
Goin' round the herd with a dogie by the tail.
It's rainin' like hell and it's gittin' mighty cold,
And the long-horned sons-a-guns are gittin' mighty hard to hold.
Saddle up boys, and saddle up well,
For I think these cattle have scattered to hell.
Me and old Blue Dog arrived on the spot,
And we put them to milling like the boiling of a pot.
I'm on my best horse and I am goin' on a run,
I'm the quickest-shootin' cowboy that ever pulled a gun.
I flushed them left, couldn't get 'em to stop, .
I can run as long as an eight-day clock.
My seat in the saddle and I gave a little shout
The lead cattle broke an' the herd went about.
My quirt in my hand, my slicker on my saddle,
I hung and rattled with them goddam cattle.
Some of 'em we captured without half tryin',
They was so damned scared they didn't need hog-tyin'.
We strung 'em out next mornin', and the boss made a count
And he said, "Boys, we are just a few out."
"Make a circle, boys, and don't lose no time,
I am sure they will be easy to find."
It was over the hillside and over the draws,
And we soon brought in the old Two Bars
A stray in the herd and the boss said, "Kill it!"
So I shot it in the rump with the handle of a skillet.
I went to the boss to draw my roll,
And he had me figured out nine dollars in the hole.
Me and my boss we had a little spat,
So I hit him in the face with my ten-gallon hat.
I'm going to sell my horse, going to sell my saddle,
'Cause I'm tired of punching these Longhorn cattle.
When I thought of my gal I nearly would cry,
I'll quit punchin' cows in the sweet by-and-by.
I hadn't been at home but some days two or three
When I put off my gal for to see.
"If you've made up your mind to quit the cowboy life,
I have fully decided to be your little wife."
Farewell, old paint, I wish you no harm,
I've done quit the business to go on the farm.
No more a cow-puncher to sleep at my ease,
'Mid the crawlin' of the lice and the bitin' of the fleas.