I started up the trail October twenty-third, I started up the trail with the 2U herd.
Oh, a ten-dollar hoss and a forty-dollar saddle — And I'm goin' to punchin' Texas cattle. I woke up one morning on the old Chisholm trail Rope in hand and a cow by the tail.
I'm up in the mornin' afore daylight And afore I sleep the moon shines bright. Old Ben Bolt was a blamed good boss, But he'd go to see the girls on a sore-backed horse. Old Ben Bolt was a fine old man And you'd know there was whiskey wherever he'd land.
My hoss throwed me off at a creek called Mud, My hoss throwed me off round the 2U herd. Last time I saw him he was going across the level A-kicking up his heels and a-running like the ,devil. It's cloudy in the West, a-looking like rain, And my damned old slicker's in the wagon again.
Crippled my hoss, I don't know how, Ropin' at the horns of a 2U cow. We hit Caldwell and we hit her on the fly, We bedded down the cattle on a hill close by. No chaps, no slicker, and it's pouring down rain, And I swear, by G—d, I'll never night herd again.
Feet in the stirrups and seat in the saddle, I hung and rattled with them long-horned cattle. Last night I was on guard and the leader broke ranks, I hit my horse down the .shoulders and I spurred him in the flanks.
The wind commenced to blow, and the rain began to fall, Hit looked, by grab, like we was goin' to lose 'em all.
I jumped in the saddle and grabbed holt the horn, Best blamed cow-puncher ever was born. I popped my foot in the stirrup and gave a little yell, The tail cattle broke and the leaders went to hell.