MY EARLY DAYS IN GOOD OLD SAN ANTONIO, Page #0933
I don't give a damn if they never do stop ;
I'll ride as long as an eight-day clock.
Foot in the stirrup and hand on the horn,
Best damned cowboy ever was born.
I herded and hollered and I done very well,
Till the boss said, "Boys, just let 'em go to hell."
Stray in the herd and the boss said kill it,
So I shot him in the rump with the handle of a skillet.
We rounded 'em up and put 'em on the cars,
And that was the last of the old Two Bars.
Oh, it's bacon and beans most every day—
I'd as soon be a-eatin' prairie hay.
I'm on my best horse and I'm goin' at a run.
I'm the quickest shootin' cowboy that ever pulled a gun.
I went to the wagon to get my roll,
To come back to Texas, dad-burn my soul.
I went to the boss to draw my roll,
He had it figured out I was nine dollars in the hole.
I'll sell my outfit just as soon as I can,
I won't punch cattle for no damned man.
Goin' back to town to draw my money,
Goin' back home to see my honey.
With my knees in the saddle and my seat in sky
I'll quit punching cows in the sweet by and by.
Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya, youpy ya,
Coma ti yi youpy, youpy ya.
MY EARLY DAYS IN GOOD OLD SAN ANTONIO
John A. Miller, Bandera, Texas
My parents, John G. and Katherine Miller came to San Antonio in 1848, and I was
born September 10, 1851, where they first lived on Main Street and a ten-foot
alley, now West Commerce and Navarro Streets. They lived