| Little Joe the wrangler he’ll wrangle never more
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| His days with the remuda they’re all done
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| It was long about last April he rode into our camp
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| Just a little Texas stray and all alone
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| It was long late in the evening when he rode into our camp
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| On a little old brown pony he called Shaw
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| In his brogan shoes and coveralls a harder lookin' kid
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| You never in you life have seen before
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| His saddle was a Sother kack built many years ago
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| An OK spur on one foot idly hung
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| With his bed roll in a cotton sack was loosely tied behind
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| And a canteen from the saddle horn he’d slung
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| Said he had to leave his home because his paw had married twice
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| His new maw beat him every day or two
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| So he saddled up old Shaw one night and lit a shuck this way
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| Thought he’d try and paddle now his own canoe
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| Said he’d try to do the best he could if we’d only give him work
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| Though he didn’t know straight up about a cow
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| So the boss he cut him out a mount and kinda put him on
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| And we knew he liked our little stray somehow
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| Well he taught him how to heard the horses and learned to know 'em all
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| And to get 'em in by daylight if he could
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| And to follow the chuck wagon and to always hitch the team
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| And to help the carsonaro rustle wood
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| We had driven to Red River and the weather it was fine
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| We were camped down on the south side of the bend
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| When a Norther started blowin' we called the extra guard
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| Cause it took all hands to hold the cattle in
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| Now little Joe the wrangler was called out like the rest
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| Barely had the kid got to the heard
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| When the cattle they stampeded like a hailstorm on they flew
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| With all of us a ridin' for the lead
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| Between the streaks of lightnin' we could see a horse ahead
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| It was little Joe the wrangler in the lead
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| He was riding old Blue Rocket with a slicker o’er his head
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| And he’s trying to check the leaders in their speed
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| We finally got’em millin' and they sort of quieted down
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| The extra guard back to the camp did go
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| But one of them was missing and we all knew at a glance
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| Twas our little Texas strayboy wrangler Joe
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| We found him there at sun up where old Blue Rocket fell
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| In some washout twenty feet below
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| Beneath his horse smashed to a pulphis spur had rung the knell
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| For our little Texas stray bos wrangler Joe
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| Little Joe the wrangler he’ll wrangle never more
|
| His days with the remuda they’re all done
|
| It was long about last April he rode into our camp
|
| Just a little Texas stray and all alone |