Through rocky arroyas so dark and so deep,
Down the sides of the mountains so slippery and steep,—
You've good judgment, sure-footed, wherever you go,
You're a safety conveyance, my little Chopo.
Chopo, my pony, Chopo, my pride,
Chopo, my amigo, Chopo I will ride.
From Mexico's borders 'cross Texas' Llano
To the salt Pecos River, I ride you, Chopo.
Whether single or double or in the lead of the team,
Over highways or byways or crossing a stream,—
You're always in fix and willing to go,
Whenever you're called on, my chico Chopo.
You're a good roping horse, you were never jerked down,
When tied to a steer, you will circle him round;
Let him once cross the string and over he'll go,—
You sabe the business, my cow-horse, Chopo.
One day on the Llano a hailstorm began,
The herds were stampeded, the horses all ran,
The lightning it glittered, a cyclone did blow,
But you faced the sweet music, my little Chopo.