Little Joe the wrangler will wrangle never more His days with the remuda they're all done Long about last April that he rode into our camp Just a little Texas stray and all alone
'Twas long late in the evenin' when he rode into our camp On a little old brown pony he called Shaw With his brogan shoes and coveralls a harder lookin' kid You never in your life had seen before
His saddle was a southern kack built many years ago And an OK spur on one foot idly hung His hot roll in a cotton sack was loosely tied behind And a canteen from the saddle horn he'd slung
Said he'd 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 Shaw one night and lit a shuck this way Thought he'd try and paddle 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 then kinder put him on Then we knew he liked our little stray somehow
He taught him how to herd the horses 'n learned to know 'em all And to round 'em up by daylight if he could Then to follow the chuck wagon and to always hitch the team And to help the cocinaro rustle wood
We'd driven to Red River and the weather it was fine We had camped down on the south side in a bend When a Norther started blowin' and we called the extra guards 'Cause it took all hands to hold the cattle in
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-ridin' for the lead
'Tween the streaks of lightnin' we could see a horse ahead 'Twas little Joe the wrangler in the lead He was ridin' ol' Blue Rocket with his slicker o'er his head An' he's tryin' to check the leaders in their speed
We finally got 'em millin' and they sorta quieted down And the extra guard back to the camp did go But one of them was missin' and we all knew at a glance 'Twas our little Texas stray poor wrangler Joe
Found 'im there at sunup where ol' Blue Rocket fell In a washout some twenty feet below Beneath his horse smashed to a pulp his spurs had rung the knell For our little Texas stray poor wrangler Joe
Now little Joe the wrangler will wrangle never more His days with the remuda they're all done
[spoken] Long about last April when he rode into our camp Just a little Texas stray and all alone.