Cpl1) It was little Joe the wrangler, he’ll wrangle never more. His days with the cavvy they are done. ’Twas a year ago last summer he joined the outfit here, just from a little Texas stray and just alone. Well it’s long late in the evening when he rode up to the herd on o little brown pony he called Chaw. With his broken shoes and overalls, a tougher lookin’ kid, well I never in my life had seen before.
Cpl2) His saddle was a southern kack built many years ago, and an O. K. spur from one foot idly hung; while a hot roll in the cotton sack was loosely tied behind and a canteen from the saddle horn was slung. He said he had to leave his home, his ma had married twice and his old man beat him ev’ry day or two. So he saddled up old Chaw one night and lit a chuck this way, thought he’d try and paddle now his own canoe.
Cpl3) Said he try and do the best he could if we’d only give him work but didn’t know straight up about a cow. But the boss, he cuts him out amount and kinder put him on ’cause he sorta like that little stray somehow. Thought 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 follow the chuck wagon and to always hitch the team and to help the cocineros rustle wood.
Cpl4) ’Tween the streaks of lithnin’ we could see that horse out ahead, it was little Joe the wrangler in the lead. He was ridin’ old blue Rocket with his slicker ’bove his head, atryin’ to checkthem lead cows in their speed, well, we got them kind amillin’ 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 ’twas our little lost herder wrangler wrangler Joe.
Cpl5) Next mornin’ just at sunup we could see where Rocket fell down in a washout fort feet below beneath his horse mash to a pulpe his spurs had ring the bell for our little lost herder wrangler Joe.
