I started on the train October twenty-third,
I started up the trail with the Two-Bar herd.
And then the rollicking, reckless swing of the chorus. There were not more than three or four actual riders among them, but they were all from the Cow Country, after all.
Comi ti yi, yuppi ya, yuppi ya.
Comi ti yi, yuppi, yuppi ya.
I woke up in the mornin' on the ol' Panhandle Trail,
Rope in my hand an' a cow by the tail.
My hawss throwed me off at the crick called Mud,
My hawss throwed me off round the Two-Bar herd.
Last time I seen him he was goin' cross the level,
A kickin' up his heels an' a runnin' like the devil.
It's cloudy in the west, it's a lookin' like rain.
An' I've left my derned old slicker in th' waggin again.
No chaps an' no slicker an' a pourin' down rain,
I'm a son of a coyote if I night-herd again.
Foot in the stirrup an' hand on the horn,
The finest lookin' cowboy that ever was born.
Stray in the herd an' the boss said kill it.
So I shot him in the rump an' he landed in the skillet.
We rounded 'em up an' put 'em on the cars.
An' that was the end of the old Two-Bars.
The chorus, pounded out, left them flushed and proud of themselves as Mary Burrows thanked them.
