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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 Amid the streaks of lightnin' there was one horse up ahead He was tryin' to check the leaders in their speed It was little Joe the Wrangler with a slicker o'er his head He was ridin' Old Blue Rocket in the lead At last we got them millin' and kinda quited down And the extra guards back to the wagon went But there was one a missin' we could see it at a glance Was our little Texas stray poor Wrangler Joe Next morning just at daybreak we found where Rocket fell Down in a washout twenty feet below Beneath his horse his life had gone his spur had run its knell Was our little Texas stray poor Wrangler Joe