Ride, Cowhorse!

Here comes the Sefior on his little black pony,

Lope along, cayuse, on the grey prairee.

It seems like a dream, but a bullet isn't phony

And that was a bullet hit the cactus tree.

Here comes the Sefior, riding hell for leather.

Lope along, cowhorse, it's time for us to go

Seeking after some place that offers better weather

Than a sky a-dropping bullets three in a row.

Get along, pinto, would you let a pony catch you,

A little black pony that hasn't any pride?

You wouldn't let a fat man on a mangy pony catch you

When you and me and 'Nita are out for a ride.

Who told the Sefior his girl was going riding,

Leaving him and Mexico to bunk with you and me?

Cayuse, if he catches us you'll sure get a hiding,

Get along then, on the grey prairee!