Songs of the Cowboys (1908)/Windy Bill

Windy Bill was a Texas man
And he could rope you bet,
Talk of the steer he could'nt tie down
Had'nt sort'er been born yet;
The boys they knew of an old black steer
A sort of an old outlaw,
Who ran down in the bottom
Just at the foot of the draw.

This slim black steer had stood his ground
With punchers from everywhere
The boys bet Bill two to one
He couldn't quite get there
So Bill brought up his old cow horse
His weathers and back were sore
Prepared to tackle this old black steer
Who ran down in the draw.

With his grazin' bits and sand stacked tree,
His chaps and taps to boot,
His old maguey tied hard and fast,
Went out to tackle the brute.
​Bill sorter sauntered around him first;
The steer began to paw
Poked up his tail high in the air
And lit down in the draw.

The old cow horse flew at him like
He'd been eatin' corn
And Bill he landed his old maguey
Around old blackies horns.
The old time cow horse he stopped dead still,
The cinches broke like straw
Both the sand stacked tree and old maguey,
Went driftin' down the draw.

Bill landed in a big rock pile
His face and hands were scratched;
He 'lowed he always could tie a steer
But guessed he'd found his match.
Paid up his bet like a little man
Without a bit of jaw
And said old blackie was the boss
Of all down in the draw.

'There's a moral to my song, boys,
Which I hope that you can see
Whenever you start to tackle a steer
Never tie hard your maguey.
Put on your dalebueltas
'Cordin' to California law
And you will never see your old rim-fires
Driftin' down the draw.