Trail driving was grueling for the cowboy
Not all marshmallows and campfire stories

They never slept very Sound-
the Cows were up and down

Day after day
the same cowpoke way

snaps and plaid shirts
full of holes and dirt

To get cattle to cross the stream
It took a big steer
that was mean

The rest then would follow
If you crossed by the hollow

When the cattle drives over
He’s No longer a rover

When the cowpokes-had a few sips
He’ll pull out the fiddle to his hip

Scuffed up cowboy boots will scoot
To the fiddles Rooty toot toot

When It starts all over again
The Cowpoke takes it on the chin

To Indian territory to pick up supplies
He’s on to the next cattle drive

It’s the life that you chose
That’s just how it goes

As every Cowpoke-well knows

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