The bawl of a steer, To a cowboy's ear, Is music of sweetest strain; And the yelping notes Of the gray cayotes To him are a glad refrain.
And his jolly songs Speed him along, As he thinks of the little gal With golden hair Who is waiting there At the bars of the home corral.
For a kingly crown In the noisy town His saddle he wouldn't change; No life so free As the life we see Way out on the Yaso range.
His eyes are bright And his heart as light As the smoke of his cigarette; There's never a care For his soul to bear, No trouble to make him fret.
The rapid beat Of his broncho's feet On the sod as he speeds along, Keeps living time To the ringing rhyme Of his rollicking cowboy song.
Hike it, cowboys, For the range away On the back of a bronc of steel, With a careless flirt Of the raw-hide quirt And a dig of a roweled heel!
The winds may blow And the thunder growl Or the breezes may safely moan;-- A cowboy's life Is a royal life, His saddle his kingly throne.
Saddle up, boys, For the work is play When love's in the cowboy's eyes,-- When his heart is light As the clouds of white That swim in the summer skies.
[Footnote 3: Attributed to James Barton Adams.]