Little Joe The Wrangler

Little Joe the wrangler will wrangle never more
His days with the remuda they're all done

It was long about last April when he rode into our camp
Just a little Texas stray and all alone
It was long late in the evening when he rode into our camp
On a little old brown pony he called chaw
These brogan shoes and coveralls a harder looking kid
You never in your life had seen before
His saddle was a southern cack built many years ago
Had a okay spur on one foot idly hung
His hot roll and a cotton sack was loosely tied behind
And a canteen from the saddle horn he had slung

Said he had to leave his home because his pa had married twice
And his new ma beat him every day or two
So he saddled up old chaw one night and lit a short dissuade
Thought he'd try and saddle now his own canoe
Said he'd try and do the best he could if we'd only give him work
Though he didn't know straight up about a cow
So the boss he cut him out a mount and kinder put him on
Then we knew he liked our little stray somehow

Cause he taught him how to herd the horses and learn to know them all
And to round them up by daylight if he could
Then to follow the chuck wagon and to always hitch the team
And to help the costanero rustle wood

We had driven to red river and the weather it was fine
We camped down on the south side in a bend
When a norther started blowing and we called the extra guard
Cause it took all hands to hold the cattle in
And now little Joe the wrangler was called out with all the rest
And barely had the kid got to the herd
When the cattle they stampeded like a hail storm long they flew
With all of us a riding for the lead

Then between the streaks of lightning we could see a horse ahead
It was little Joe the wrangler in the lead
He was riding old blue rocket with his slicker o'er his head
And he's trying to check the leaders in their speed
Well we finally got them bailing and they sort of quieted down
And the extra guard back to the camp did go
One of them was missing we all knew at a glance
It was our little Texas stray poor wrangler Joe

Now we found him there at sun up where old blue rocket fell
In a washout some twenty feet below
Beneath his horse mashed to a pulp his spurs had run the nap
Our little Texas stray poor wrangler Joe

And now little Joe the wrangler will wrangle never more
His days with the remuda they're all done
It was long about last April when he rode into our camp
Just a little Texas stray and all alone