It was little Joe the Wrangler,
he'll wrangle never more,
his days with the cavvy they are done.
T 'was a year ago last summer
he rode up to the herd,
just a little Texas tray and all alone.
Well, it long late in the evening
when he rode up to the herd
On a little brown pony he called Chaw
With his broken shoes and overhauls,
a tougher looking kid
Well, I never in my life had seen before
His saddle was a southern kite
built many years ago
And an old cash spur from one
foot idly hung
While a hot roll in the cotton sack
was loosely tied behind
And the canteen from
the saddle horn was slung
He left his home in Texas,
his ma had married twice
And his old man beat him every day or two
So he saddles up old Chaw one night
And lit a shuck this way
Thought he'd try and paddle
now his own canoe
Well he is looking for a job
But he didn't know straight up about
no cow
But the boy's kinda like the kid
And cuts him out of Mount
Cause he sort of liked
that little stray somehow
Taught him how to herd the horses
and to know them all by name
And to get them in by daylight if he could
And to load the chuck wagon
and to always hitch the team
And help the old cookie
Russell would.
We was camped down in Red River
and the weather she was fine.
We was setting on the south side in a bend,
When the norther commenced blowing
and we all doubled up our guard,
Cause it took all hands to
hold them cattle then.
But a little old Joe the Wrangler
was called out with the rest
And hardly had that kid got to that herd
When them devils they stampeded
like a hailstorm long they flew
And all of us was a -ridin' for
the lead
Between the streets lightnin'
we could see that horse there out ahead
It was little old Joe the Wrangler
in the lead.
He was ridin' old Blue Rocket
with his slicker for a blind,
Tryin' to check them lead cows
in their speed.
Well, we got him kinda millin'
and sorta quieted down,
And the extra guard back
to the camp did go.
But one of them was missin'
and we all saw at a glance
T 'was our little lost horse
Herder Wrangler Joe
Next mornin' just at sunup
we found where Rockett fell
Down in a washout forty foot below
Beneath his horse smashed to a pulp
His spurs had run the nill,
For our little lost horse,
Herder Angler Joe.