'Twas in the town o' Jacksboro, in the spring o' seventy-three A man by the name o' Crego come steppin' up to me Said how d'you do young fellers, and how'd you like to go And spend one summer pleasantly on the range o' the buffalo
It's me bein' out of employment, to ol' Crego I did say This goin' out on the buffalo range, depends upon the pay But if you'll pay good wages, and transportation too I think sir I will go with you to the range o' the buffalo
Well it's now we've crossed Pease River boys, our troubles they have begun First old stinker that I cut - Christ how I cut my thumb While skinnin' the dog-gone ol' buffalo, our lives they had no show For the Indians watched to pick us off, while skinnin' the buffalo
The season bein' near over, ol' Crego he did say The crowd had been extravagant, was in debt to him that day We coaxed him an' we argued, but still it was no go We left his damned ol' bones to bleached on the range o' the buffalo
It's now we've crossed Pease River, and homeward we are bound No more in that old fire country, will ever we be found Go back to our wives and sweethearts, tell others not to go For God's forsaken the buffalo range, and the damn ol' buffaloTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
