ou jolly cowboys that follow the bronco steer,
I'll sing to you a verse or two your spirits for to cheer;
It's all about a trip, a trip that I did undergo
On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.

It's on the seventeenth of February, our herd it started out,
It would have made your hearts shudder to hear them bawl and shout,
As wild as any buffalo that ever rode the Platte,
Those dogies we were driving, and every one was fat.

We crossed the Mescal Mountains on the way to Gilson Flats,
And when we got to Gilson Flats, Lord, how the wind did blow;
It blew so hard, it blew so fierce, we knew not where to go,
But our spirits never failed us as onward we did go,--
On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.

That night we had a stampede; Christ, how the cattle run!
We made it to our horses; I tell you, we had no fun;
Over the prickly pear and catclaw brush we quickly made our way;
We thought of our long journey and the girls we'd left one day.

It's long by Sombserva we slowly punched along,
While each and every puncher would sing a hearty song
To cheer up his comrade as onward we did go,
On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.

We crossed the Mongollen Mountains where the tall pines do grow,
Grass grows in abundance, and rippling streams do flow;
Our packs were always turning, of course our gait was slow,
On that crooked trail to Holbrook, in Arizona oh.

At last we got to Holbrook, a little gale did blow;
It blew up sand and pebble stones and it didn't blow them slow.
We had to drink the water from that muddy little stream
And swallowed a peck of dirt when we tried to eat a bean.

But the cattle now are shipped and homeward we are bound
With a lot of as tired horses as ever could be found;
Across the reservation no danger did we fear,
But thought of wives and sweethearts and the ones we love so dear.
Now we are back in Globe City, our friendship there to share;
Here's luck to every puncher that follows the bronco steer.

ONLY A COWBOY

Away out in old Texas, that great lone star state,
Where the mocking bird whistles both early and late;
It was in Western Texas on the old N A range
The boy fell a victim on the old staked plains.

He was only a cowboy gone on before,
He was only a cowboy, we will never see more;
He was doing his duty on the old N A range
But now he is sleeping on the