The Skew-Ball Black

It was down to Red River I came,
Prepared to play a damned tough game,—
Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!

I crossed the river to the ranch where I intended to work,
With a big six-shooter and a derned good dirk,—
Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!

They roped me out a skew-ball black
With a double set-fast on his back,—
Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!

And when I was mounted on his back,
The boys all yelled, "Just give him slack,"—
Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!

They rolled and tumbled and yelled, by God,
For he threw me a-whirling all over the sod,—
Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!

I went to the boss and I told him I'd resign,
The fool tumbled over, and I thought he was dyin',—
Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!

And it's to Arkansaw I'll go back,
To hell with Texas and the skew-ball black,—
Whoa! skew, till I saddle you, whoa!