boy i’ve been on the ladder
where the trick waters flow
where the cattle are a grazing
and the spanish ponies grow
where the northerns come on whistling
from behind the neutral strip
and the prairie dogs are sneezing
as if they had “the grip”
but the coyotes come a howling
“round the ranches after dark
and the mocking-birds are singin’
to the lovely “medder lark”
where the big hoards are grazing
and the lonely lovers talk
it was there that i intended
the cowboys’ christmas spot
the boys have left the ranches
and come to town in piles
the ladies—”kinder scatterin’”
had gathered in for miles
the room was togged out gorgeous
with mistletoe and shawls
and candles flickered frescoes,
around the airy walls
the “wimmin folks” looked lovely
the boys looked kinder treed
till the leader got to yelling
hey fellows lets stampede
and the music started sighin’,
an’ awailin’ through the hall
as a kind of introduction
to the cowboy’s christmas ball
their leader was a fellow
that came from swenson’s ranch
they called him windy billy
from little dead man’s ranch
his rig was “kinder keerless,”
he had the reputation
that comes when “fellers shoots”
his voice was like a bugle
upon the mountain’s height
his feet were animated
in a mighty movin’ sight
when he commenced to holler,
neow, fellers stake your pen!
lock horns ter all them heifers,
and wrestle ‘em like men
saloot yer lovely critters;
now swing and let ‘em go
climb the grape vine
’round ‘em—all hands do-ce-do!
you mavericks, jine the round-up
jest skip her waterfall
hit was gettin’ happy,
the cowboys’ christmas ball!
don’t tell me ’bout cotillions,
or germans. no sire ‘ee!
that whirl at anson city
just takes the cake with me.
i’m sick of lazy shufflin’s,
of them i’ve had my fill
give me a frontier break-down,
backed up by windy bill
where gals aren’t no where
where the windy leafs are shown
i’ve seen all the hardness
and so i saw them all
oh, bill, i sha’n't forget yer,
and i’ll oftentimes recall,
that lively gaited sworray
the cowboys’ christmas ball.
oh, bill, i sha’n't forget yer,
and i’ll oftentimes recall,
that lively gaited sworray
the cowboys’ christmas ball.
where the trick waters flow
where the cattle are a grazing
and the spanish ponies grow
where the northerns come on whistling
from behind the neutral strip
and the prairie dogs are sneezing
as if they had “the grip”
but the coyotes come a howling
“round the ranches after dark
and the mocking-birds are singin’
to the lovely “medder lark”
where the big hoards are grazing
and the lonely lovers talk
it was there that i intended
the cowboys’ christmas spot
the boys have left the ranches
and come to town in piles
the ladies—”kinder scatterin’”
had gathered in for miles
the room was togged out gorgeous
with mistletoe and shawls
and candles flickered frescoes,
around the airy walls
the “wimmin folks” looked lovely
the boys looked kinder treed
till the leader got to yelling
hey fellows lets stampede
and the music started sighin’,
an’ awailin’ through the hall
as a kind of introduction
to the cowboy’s christmas ball
their leader was a fellow
that came from swenson’s ranch
they called him windy billy
from little dead man’s ranch
his rig was “kinder keerless,”
he had the reputation
that comes when “fellers shoots”
his voice was like a bugle
upon the mountain’s height
his feet were animated
in a mighty movin’ sight
when he commenced to holler,
neow, fellers stake your pen!
lock horns ter all them heifers,
and wrestle ‘em like men
saloot yer lovely critters;
now swing and let ‘em go
climb the grape vine
’round ‘em—all hands do-ce-do!
you mavericks, jine the round-up
jest skip her waterfall
hit was gettin’ happy,
the cowboys’ christmas ball!
don’t tell me ’bout cotillions,
or germans. no sire ‘ee!
that whirl at anson city
just takes the cake with me.
i’m sick of lazy shufflin’s,
of them i’ve had my fill
give me a frontier break-down,
backed up by windy bill
where gals aren’t no where
where the windy leafs are shown
i’ve seen all the hardness
and so i saw them all
oh, bill, i sha’n't forget yer,
and i’ll oftentimes recall,
that lively gaited sworray
the cowboys’ christmas ball.
oh, bill, i sha’n't forget yer,
and i’ll oftentimes recall,
that lively gaited sworray
the cowboys’ christmas ball.
Traducción en proceso, ¡vuelve mañana!
