"The Texas Cowboy - v1" गीत

Version 1




















Version 2

Come all you Texas cowboys, and warning take of me,
Don't go out in Montana for wealth or liberty.

But stay home here in Texas where they work the year around,
And where you'll not get consumption from sleeping on the ground.

Montana is too cold for me and the winters are too long,
Before the roundups have begun your money all is gone.

For in Montana the boys get work but six months in the year,
And they charge for things three prices, in that land so bleak and drear

This thin old hen skin bedding, 'tis not enough to shield my form,
For I almost freeze to death whenever there comes a storm.

I've an outfit on the Muscle Shell which I expect I'll never see,
Unless by chance I'm sent to represent that A R and P T.

All along these badlands, and down upon the Dry,
Where the canyons have no bottoms and the mountains reach the

Your chuck is bread and bacon, and coffee black as ink
And hard old alkali water that's scarcely fit to drink. '

They'll wake you in the morning before the break of day,
And send you out on circle full twenty miles away.

With a tenderfoot to lead you who never knows the way,
You're pegging in the best of luck if you get two meals a day.

I've been over in Colorado, and down upon the Platte,
Where the cowboys work in pastures and the cattle all are fat;

Where they ride silver mounted saddles, and spurs and leggings toe
And the horses are all Normans and only fit to plow.

Yes, I've travelled lots of country, Arizona's hills of sand,
Down through the Indian nation plumb to the Rio Grande.

Montana is the badlands, the worst I've ever seen,
Where the cowboys are all tenderfeet and the doggies are all lean.

Version 3

I am a Texas cowboy, and I am far away from home,
If I ever get back to Texas, I never more will roam.
Montana is too cold for me, and the winters are too long,
Before the roundups do begin your money is all gone.

Now, to win these fancy leggings you will have enough to do;
They cost me fourteen dollars the day that they were new.
And this old hen skin bedding too thin to keep me warm,
I nearly freeze to death my boys, whenever there comes a storm.

I have worked down in Nebraska, where the grass grows ten feet high;
Where the cattle are such rustlers they hardly ever die.
I have been up in the sand hills, and down upon the Platte,
Where the punchers are good fellows and the cattle always fat.

I have travelled lots of country, from Nebraska's hills of sand,
Down through the Indian Nation and up the Rio Grande.
But the Bad Lands of Montana are the worst I ever seen,
Where the punchers are all tenderfeet and the doggies are so lean.

They will wake you in the morning before the break of day,
And send you on a circle a hundred miles away.
Your grub is bread and bacon, with coffee black as ink,
And the water so full of alkali that it isn't fit to drink.

If you want to see some Bad Lands just go over on the Dry,
Where you'll bog down in the coulees and the mountains touch the sky,
With a tenderfoot to guide you who never knows the way,
And you are playing in the best of luck if you eat three times a day.

Up along the Yellowstone it is cold the year around,
You will surely get consumption if you sleep upon the ground.
And the wages almost nothing for six months in the year,
When you pay up all your outside debts you have nothing left for beer.

Now all you Texas cowboys this warning take by me,
Don't come up to Montana to spend your money free,
But stay at home in Texas where there is work all the year around,
And you will never get consumption by sleeping on the ground.