Тональность: D major•
Intro 1
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Verse 1
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Little Joe the Wrangler
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Little Will wrangle nevermore
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His days with the Ramuda
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Long about last April
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When he rode into our camp
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Just a little Texas gray
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Layin' all alone
Verse 2
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Long late in the evenin'
Verse 3
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When he rode into our camp
Verse 4
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On a little old brown pony
Verse 5
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These brogain shoes and cover
Verse 6
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All the harder lookin' kin
Verse 7
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You never in your life had seen before
Verse 8
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Our saddle was a southern cat bill
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Had an okay spur on one foot, idly hung
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His heart roll in a cotton sack
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was loosely tied behind
And a canteen from the
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saddle horn he'd slung
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Said he'd had to leave his home
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because his pa had married twice
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And his new ma beat him every day or two
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So he saddled up old Chaw
one night
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and a little shook this way
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Thought he'd try and paddle
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now his own canoe
Said he'd try and do
the best he could
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if we'd only give him work
Though he didn't know
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straight up about a cow
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So the bossy cut him out
Then we knew he liked our
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little stray somehow
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Cause he taught him how
to herd the horses
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And learn to know them all
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And round them up by daylight if he could
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And to follow the chuck wagon
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And to always hitch the team
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And to help the customer
We had driven to Red River
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And the weather, it was fine
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We camped down on the
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When the norther started blowin'
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And we called the extra guard
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Cause it took all hands to
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hold the cattle in
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And now little Joe the wrangler
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Was called out with all the rest
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And barely had the kid got to the herd
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When the cattle they stampeded
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like a hailstorm long they flew
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With all of us a -ridin' for the lead
In between the streaks of lightning
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we could see a horse ahead
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Was little Joe the wrangler in the lead
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He was ridin' old Blue Rocky
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with his slicker o 'er his head
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And he's tryin' to check the
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leaders in their speech
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Well, we finally got a millin'
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and they sorta quieted down
And the extra guard back
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One of them was missin'
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we all knew at a glance
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Was our little Texas Draper
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Wrangler Joe
Now we found him there at sunup
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where old Blue Rocket fell
In a washout some twenty
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Beneath his horse, massed to a pulp
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His furs had rung the knell
For our little Texas Trey
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Poor Wrangler Joe
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And now little Joe the Wrangler
His day with the Ramuda
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It was long about last April
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when he rode into our camp,
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just a little Texas stray and all alone.
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