Little Joe The Wrangler - Jules Verne Allen
Little Joe the Wrangler will wrangle nevermore
His days with the roundup they are o'er
Was a year ago last April
When he rode into our camp
Just a little Texas stray and nothing more
Was late in the evening
When he rode into our camp
On the little Texas pony he called Chaw
With his brogan shoes
And overalls a tougher looking kid
You never in your life before had saw
His saddle was a Texas kack built many years ago
An OK spur on one foot lightly swung
With his packroll in a cotton
Sack so loosely tied behind
And a canteen from his saddle horn was slung
He said he had to leave his home
His pa had married twice
His new ma whipped him every day or two
So he saddled up old Chaw one night
And lit a shuck his way
He said he'd try to paddle his own canoe
He said if we would give him work
He'd do the best he could
Though he didn't know straight up about a cow
So the boss he cut him out a mount
And kindly put him on
He sorta liked this little kid somehow
He learned to wrangle horses
And learned to know them all
And get them in at daybreakk if he could
And to trail the old chuck wagon
And always hitch the team
And help to cook each evening rustle wood
We had hardly reached the
Pecos the weather it was fine
We were camped down
On the south side in a draw
When a northern commenced blowing
And we doubled up our guards
It took every one of us to hold them in
Little Joe the Wrangler was called out with the rest
Scarcely had the little fellow reached the herd
When the cattle they
Stampeded like a hailstorm on they fled
And everyone was ridin' for the lead
Between the streaks of lightnin'
We could see a horse ahead
It was Little Joe the Wrangler in the lead
He was riding old Blue
Rocket with a slicker o'er his head
He was trying to check the leaders in their speed
We finally got 'em millin'
And they sort of quieted down
The extra guard back to the camp did go
All but one of them was
Missing and we all knew at a glance
T'was our little Texas stray boy Wrangler Joe
We found him there at sun up
Where old Blue Rocket fell
In a washout some twenty feet below
Beneath his horse smashed to a pulp
His spur had rung the knell
For our little Texas stray boy Wrangler Joe
