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He was little joe, the wrangler,
he'll wrangle nevermore
his days with the remuda, they are o'er
was a year ago last april
that he rode into our camp
just a little texas stray and all alone
His saddle was a texas kak,
made many years ago
with an ok spur on one foot lightly slung
his bedroll in the cotton sack
was loosely tied behind
and his canteen o'er his saddle horn was hung
He said if we would give him work
he'd do the best he could
though he didn't know straightup about a cow
so the boss he cut him out a mount
and he kindly put him on
'cause he sort o' liked this little kid somehow
He learned to wrangle horses,
and know 'em all by name
and get them in by daybreak, if he could
to follow the chuckwagon
and always hitch the team
and help the cocinero rustle wood
Well, we'd driven down the pecos,
the weather being fine
we camped on the south side in a bend
when a norther started blowin,
and we called out every man
for it'd taken all us hands to hold 'em in
Well, little joe, the wrangler,
was called out with the rest
although the kid had scarcely reached the herd
when the cattle they stampeded,
like a hailstorm 'long they fled
and we was all a' ridin for the lead
Amid'st the streaks of lightin
we could see a horse ahead
t'was little joe, the wrangler, in the lead
he was ridin old blue rocket
with a slicker o'er his head
a tryin to check the cattle in their speed
At last we got them millin'
and kind'a quieted down
and the extra guard back to the wagon went
but one o' them was missin',
and we knew it at a glance
was our little texas stray, poor wrangling joe
Next mornin', just at daybreak,
we found where rocket fell
in a washout twenty feet below
and beneath his horse, smashed to a pulp,
his spur had rung the knell
was a little texas stray, poor wranglin' joe

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