My name is Juan Murray, and hard for my fate,
I was born and raised in Texas, that good old lone star state.
I have been to many a round-up, boys, have worked on the trail,
Have stood many a long old guard through the rain, yes, sleet, and hail;
I have rode the Texas broncos that pitched from morning till noon,
And have seen many a storm, boys, between sunrise, yes, and noon.
I am a jolly cowboy and have roamed all over the West,
And among the bronco riders I rank among the best.
But when I left old Midland, with voice right then I spoke,—
"I never will see you again until the day I croak."
But since I left old Texas so many sights I have saw
A-traveling from my native state way out to Mexico,—
I am looking all around me and cannot help but smile
To see my nearest neighbors all in the Mexican style.
I left my home in Texas to dodge the ball and chain.
In the State of Sonora I will forever remain.
Farewell to my mother, my friends that are so dear,
I would like to see you all again, my lonesome heart to cheer.
I have a word to speak, boys, only another to say,—
Don't never be a cow-thief, don't never ride a stray;
Be careful of your line, boys, and keep it on your tree,—
Just suit yourself about it, for it is nothing to me.
But if you start to rustling you will come to some sad fate,
You will have to go to prison and work for the state.
Don't think that I am lying and trying to tell a joke,
For the writer has experienced just every word he's spoke.
It is better to be honest and let other's stock alone
Than to leave your native country and seek a Mexican home.
For if you start to rustling you will surely come to see
The State of Sonora,—be an outcast just like me.