THE BULL-WHACKER

I’m a lonely bull-whacker
On the Red Cloud line,
I can lick any son of a gun
That will yoke an ox of mine.
And if I can catch him,
You bet I will or try,
I’d lick him with an ox-bow,—
Root hog or die.

It’s out on the road
With a very heavy load,
With a very awkward team
And a very muddy road,
You may whip and you may holler,
But if you cuss it’s on the sly;
Then whack the cattle on, boys,—
Root hog or die.

It’s out on the road
These sights are to be seen,
The antelope and buffalo,
The prairie all so green,—
The antelope and buffalo,
The rabbit jumps so high;
It’s whack the cattle on, boys,—
Root hog or die.

It’s every day at twelve
There’s something for to do;
And if there’s nothing else,
There’s a pony for to shoe;
I’ll throw him down,
And still I’ll make him lie;
Little pig, big pig,
Root hog or die.

Now perhaps you’d like to know
What we have to eat,
A little piece of bread
And a little dirty meat,
A little black coffee,
And whiskey on the sly;
It’s whack the cattle on, boys,—
Root hog or die.

There’s hard old times on Bitter Creek
That never can be beat,
It was root hog or die
Under every wagon sheet;
We cleaned up all the Indians,
Drank all the alkali,
And it’s whack the cattle on, boys,—
Root hog or die.

There was good old times in Salt Lake
That never can pass by,
It was there I first spied
My China girl called Wi.
She could smile, she could chuckle,
She could roll her hog eye;
Then it’s whack the cattle on, boys,—
Root hog or die.

Oh, I’m going home
Bull-whacking for to spurn,
I ain’t got a nickel,
And I don’t give a dern.
‘Tis when I meet a pretty girl,
You bet I will or try,
I’ll make her my little wife,—
Root hog or die.

Author unknown

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