It was in the town of Jacksboro
in the spring of seventy -three
A man by the name of Crego
comes steppin' up to me
Said, how do you do, young fellow,
and how'd you like to go
And spend one summer pleasantly
on the range of the buffalo
It's me being out of employment
to old Crego, I did say
This going out on the Buffalo Range
depends upon the pay
But if you pay good wages
and transportation too
I think, I will go with you
to the range of the Buffalo
oh yes
I'll pay good wages and transportation too
if you will come and go with me
and stay the summer through
but if you do grow homesick
and homeward you will go well
I'll not pay transportation
from the range of the buffalo.
Well, now we've crossed Pease River,
boys,
our troubles have begun.
First old buffalo that I skinned,
Christ, how I cut my thumb.
While skinning the damn old stinkers,
our lives they had no show,
for the Indians watched to pick us off
while skinning the buffalo.
He fed us on such sorry chuck
I wished myself was dead.
Old beans and hardtack
and rotten sour bread.
Oh the mosquitoes and the chintzes
I tell you boys, no go.
God's forsaken the Buffalo Range
and that damn old buffalo.
Well, the season was near over
and old Crego, he did say
The crowd had been extravagant,
we were in debt to him that day
Well, we coaxed him and we argued,
but still it was no go
We left his damned old bones to bleach
on the range of the buffalo
Well, now we've crossed Pease River,
boys,
and homeward we are bound.
No more in that all -fired country
will ever we be found.
Grow back to our wives and
sweethearts,
tell others not to go.
Lord, God's forsaken the Buffalo Range
and the damn old Buffalo