Strawberry Roan

I was loafin’ around just spendin’ muh time
Out of a job and I hadn’t a dime,
When a feller steps up and sez he “I suppose
That yore uh bronc fighter by the looks o’ your clothes.”

Well I thought he was right and I told him the same,
Then I asks has he got any bad ones to tame.
He says he has one a bad one tuh buck,
And fur piling good cowboys he has lots uh luck.

Well I gets all excited and asks what he pays,
Tuh ride that old pony a couple uh days.
He offers ten dollars Sez I “I’m yure man,
Fur the bronk never lived that I couldn’t fan.”

I don’t like to brag but I got this tuh say,
That I ain’t been throwed fur many a day.
Sez he git yur saddle I’ll give yuh a chance,
So I gits in his buckboard and drifts tuh his ranch.

I stays until mornin’ and right after chuck,
I steps out tuh see if that outlaw kin buck.
He was down in the hoss corral standing alone,
A snakey eyed outlaw, a strawberry roan.

His legs is all spavined he’s got pigeon toes,
Little pig eyes and a long roman nose.
Little pin ears that touched at the tip,
An X. Y. Z. iron stamped on his hip.

Yew necked he is with a long lower jaw.
All the things that you’ll see on a wild outlaw.
Well I puts on muh spurs I’m sure feelin’ fine,
Turns up muh hat and picks up muh twine.

I dabs that loop on him and well I knows then,
That before he is rode I’ll sure earn that ten.
I gets my blinds on him it shore is a fight,
Next comes muh saddle I screws it down tight.

Then I gets on him I sez ‘raise the blind,
Move out uv his way and les see him unwind.”
Well be bows his old neck and I guess he unwound,
For he ain’t spendin’ much uv his time on the ground.

He turns his old belly right up to the sun,
He shore is a sunfishing son-of-a-gun.
He goes up toward the east and comes down toward the west,
To stay on his middle I’m doin’ my best.

He is the worst bucker I sees on the range,
He could turn on a dime and give you back change.
He hits on all fours and turns up on his side,
I don’t see how he keeps from sheddin’ his hide.

I tell yuh, no foolin’, that caballo can step,
I was still in my saddle, abuildin’ some rep.
Away goes muh stirrups and I loses* muh hat,
I’m grabbin’ the apple and blind as a bat.
*looses in the newspaper

He shore is frog walkin’ he heaves a big sigh,
He only lacks wings fur tuh be on the fly.
An while he’s a bucking he squeals like a shoat,
I tell yuh that pony has shore got muh goat.

With a phenominal jump he kicks her in high,
And I’m settin’ on nothin’ way up in the sky.
And then I descends, I come back tuh earth,
And I lights into cussin’ the day of his birth.

Then I knows that the hosses I ain’t able tuh ride,
Is some uv them livin’, they haven’t all died.
And I bets all muh money that no man alive,
Can stay with that bronk when he makes that high dive.

I was laying round town just spending my time
Out of a job and not makin’ a dime
When up steps a feller and he says, “I suppose
That you’re a bronc rider by the looks of your clothes?”

He guesses me right. “And a good one I’ll claim
Do you happen to have any bad ones to tame?”
He says he’s got one that’s a good one to buck
And at throwing good riders he’s had lots of luck.

He says this old pony has never been rode
And the man that gets on him is bound to be throwed
I gets all excited and I ask what he pays
To ride this old pony a couple of days.

He says, “Ten dollars.” I says, “I’m your man
The bronc never lived that I cannot fan
The bronc never tried nor never drew breath
That I cannot ride till he starves plumb to death.”

He says, “Get your saddle.  I’ll give you a chance.”
We got in the buggy and went to the ranch
We waited till morning, right after chuck
I went out to see if that outlaw could buck.

Down in the corral, a-standin’ alone
Was this little old caballo, a strawberry roan
He had little pin ears that touched at the tip
And a big forty-four brand was on his left hip.

He was spavined all round and he had pidgeon toes
Little pig eyes and a big Roman nose
He was U-necked and old with a long lower jaw
You could tell at a glance he was a regular outlaw.

I buckled on my spurs, I was feeling plumb fine
I pulled down my hat and I curls up my twine
I threw the loop at him, right well I knew then
Before I had rode him I’d sure earn my ten.

I got the blind on him with a terrible fight
Cinched on the saddle and girdled it tight
Then I steps up on him and pulled down the blind
And sat there in the saddle to see him unwind.

He bowed his old neck and I’ll say he unwound
He seemed to quit living down there on the ground
He went up to the east and came down to the west
With me in the saddle, a-doing my best.

He sure was frog-walkin’, I heaved a big sigh
He only lacked wings for to be on the fly
He turned his old belly right up to the sun
For he was a sun-fishin’ son of a gun.

He was the worst bronco I’ve seen on the range
He could turn on a nickel and leave you some change
While he was buckin’ he squalled like a shoat
I tell you that outlaw, he sure got my goat.

I tell all the people that pony could step
And I was still on him a-buildin’ a rep
He came down on all fours and turned up on his side
I don’t see how he kept from losing his hide.

I lost my stirrups, I lost my hat,
I was pullin’ at leather as blind as a bat
With a phenomenal jump he made a high dive
And set me a-winding up there through the sky.

I turned forty flips and came down to the earth
And sit there a-cussing the day of his birth

I know there’s some ponies that I cannot ride
Some of them living, they haven’t all died.
But I bet all money there’s no man alive
That can ride Old Strawberry when he makes that high dive.

Songs of the Sage by Curley Fletcher, originally published by Kellaway-Idle Co.

I’m a-layin’ around, just spendin’ muh time
Out of a job an’ ain’t holdin’ a dime
When a feller steps up, an’ sez, “I suppose
That you’re uh bronk fighter by the looks uh your clothes”

“Yuh figures me right—I’m a good one, I claim
Do you happen tun have any bad guns tuh tame?
He set he’s got one, uh bad un huh buck
An’ fur thrown’ good riders, he’s had lots uh luck

He set that this pony has never been rode
That the boys that gets on ‘I’m is bound tuh get throwed
Well, I gets all excited an’ asks what he pays
Tuh ride that old pony uh couple uh days

He offers uh ten spot. See I, “I’m yure man
Cause the bronk never lived, that I couldn’t fan
The hoss never lived, he never drew breath
That I couldn’t ride till he starved plum tuh death

“I don’t like tuh brag, but I got this tub say
That I ain’t been piled fur many uh day”
Sez he, “Get your saddle, I’ll give yuh uh chance”
So I got in his buckboard an’ drifts tuh his ranch

I stays until mornin’, an’ right after chuck
I steps out uh see if that outlaw kin buck
Down in the hoss corral, standin’ alone
Was this caballo, uh strawberry roan

His laigs is all spavined [sic] an’ he’s got pigeon toes
Little pig eyes an’ uh big Roman nose
Little pin ears that touch at the tip
An’ uh double square iron stamped on his hip

Yew necked an’ old with uh long lower jaw
I kin see with one eye, he’s uh reg’lar outlaw
I puts on muh spurs–I’m sure feelin’ fine
Turns up muh hat, an’ picks up muh twine

I throws that loop on ‘im, an’ well I knows then
That before he gets rode, I’ll sure earn that ten
I gets muh blinds on him, an’ it sure was a fight
Next comes muh saddle–I screws it down tight

An’ then I piles on ‘im, an’ raises the blind
I’m right in his middle tuh see ‘im unwind
Well, he bows his old neck, an’ I guess he unwound
Fur he seems tug quit livin’ down on the ground

He gets up t’ward the East an’ comes down t’ward the West
Tuh stay in his middle, I’m doin’ muh best
He sure is frog walking’ he heaves uh big sigh
He only lacks wings fur tuh be on the fly

He turns his old belly right up toward the sun
He sure is uh sun-fishing’ son-of-a-gun
He is the worst bucker I seen on the range
He kin turn on uh buckle an’ give yuh some change

While he’s uh-buckin’ he squeals like uh shoat
I tell yuh, that pony has sure got muh goat
I claim that, no foolin’, that bronk could sure step
I’m still in muh saddle, uh-buildin’ uh rep

He hits on all fours, an’ suns up his side
I don’t see how he keeps from sheddin’ his hide
I loses muh stirrups an’ also muh hat
I’m grabbin’ the leather an’ blind as a bat

With uh phenomenal jump, he goes up on high
An’ I’m settin’ on nothin’, way up in the sky
An’ then I turns over, I comes back tuh earth
An’ lights in tuh cussin’ the day of his birth

Then I knows that the horses I ain’t able tuh ride
Is some of them livin’–they haven’t all died
But I bets all muh money they ain’t no man alive
Kin stay with that bronk when he makes that high dive

Alternate chorus collected by Leter Hubbard from the singing of Andrew Somerville, Moab, Utah, 1943 and published in his book Ballads and Songs from Utah, University of Utah Press, 1961.

Oh, that strawberry roan, oh that strawberry roan
That sunfishing critter was feeding alone
As never a cowboy from Texas to Rome
Can ride that strawberry roan

Let me tell you a tale, it’s a good one that’s known
It’s of an old horse, that strawberry roan
Hanging ’round town not earning a dime
Out of a job, a-wasting my time
When a fellow steps up and he said, “I suppose
You’re a bronc-busting man from the looks of your clothes”
“You guesses me right, and a good one, I claim
Riding tough ponies is my middle name”

Oh, that strawberry roan, oh that strawberry roan
They say he’s a cayuse that’s never been rode
And the man that steps on him is bound to get throwed
Throwed off that strawberry roan.

I put on the blind and it sure was a fight
My saddle come next and I screwed it down tight
I piled aboard and I had a gem
I rode this old roan, I’d sure earned my ten
He bowed his neck and he leapt from the ground
Two circles he made before he come down
The worst bucking bronc I’ve seen on the range
Turn on a nickel and give you some change

Oh, that strawberry roan, oh that strawberry roan
Go up in the east and come down in the west
To stay in his middle I was doing my best
Upon that old strawberry roan.

Now, certainly say that this pony can step
I’m still setting tight and I’m earning a rest
My stirrup I lost and there goes my hat
I’m yanking no leather, I’m blind as a bat
Made one more jump, he headed up high
Being on nothing way up in the sky
I turned over twice and I come back to earth
And I started to cussing the day of his birth

Oh, that strawberry roan, oh that strawberry roan
That sunfishing critter was breezing along
There ‘s never a cowboy from Texas to Rome
Can ride old strawberry roan

Three verses collected from “Powder River” Jack H. Lee which he ascribes to Frank Chamberlin, 1938

Well, I’ll be gum swizzled, the old fossil says
You sure took a shake up, there ‘s nobody stays
A ‘ fannin ‘ that gee-gee, that locoed throwback
He’s plumb downright tricky, that’s one proven fact.

Says I, “Mister Ronnie, does I get a job
A’ ridin’ yore green roughs, I’m proven no slob
I stayed twenty jumps and I had to cut loose
From the pride of yore herd, that old Strawberry deuce”

Me marry yore daughter? And make me yore heir?
Live on the ranch with you? I’m takin’ that dare
If you’ll will me that pin-head, he’ll make a fine toy
To practice on Sundays, —TAKE ME A COWBOY

FAC II 744

Collected by Barre Toelken from the singing of Amish farmer Paul Coblentz of Fredricksburg, OH. Transcribed in German phonetic script.

In die stawdt war ich g’jocht in die hitz un die keld
Ice has gar ken job g’hat n just gloy bissel geld;
No kommt en man rooch en sawgt guck’l mal doe,
“Mei buggle is schon steif, mei hawr sin schon groh.

“Ich hab en glenner bronco das ich g’reide havve Will;
Er is bissel zu viel for mich, odder der will.

“Du guckst mir wie en reider bei de looks von dei suit;
Reid mir mei bronco—bezawlt ich dich gut.”
“Wawas is die color von deinem bronco—
Is er schwatz, weiss, brau, sorrel, tan odder groh?”

“Er is jucht en glenner bronco avver ischt zimlich toff,
Er is net zu schlimm gross avver er’s mach aus gut stoff.”
In die stawdtzimmer gange un dat war erstanne;
Sei schwanz war hinna, sei kop war vonna.

En sack gegrabt sei auhe zu gebunne,
En sack gegrabt, mei finga fashunna.
Gegrabt for de zaum un no for de saddle;
Hab gesawgt ich will ihm reide for zeh un a vattle.

Mei fuss in die stirrup un ich hab uf ihn gehochdt;
Er hut weid gejumpt un er hut hoch gebuckt.
Er hut hoch gejumpt un mich rinne gebuckt—
Die gluck hut ihr beeblin all aussem weg glucked.

Der kop in die hei, un die fees hinna naus,
Ich hab bissel geguckt un bin sprung fass haus.
Der dreck er iss g’schpottst bis nuff on die knee
Un schlimm as es war es wars frisch von die kee

O sele apbarre roan,
O sele apbarre roan:
Schlitz ohrig, hol bugglig, din helsig, lang herig,
Dick seckig, grum benig, avver net lohm;
O sele apbarre roan.

Published in “The Whorehouse Bells Were Ringing” and Other Songs Cowboys Sing by Guy Logsdon, University of Illinois Press, 1989. Collected from the singing of Baxter Black.

Content warning! This song contains graphic and crude depictions of castration.
I can handle it

From Cowboy and Western Songs: A Comprehensive Anthology by Austin E. and Alta S. Fife, Clarkston N. Potter, Inc., 1969. Also called “The Big Brahma Bull”, “The Flying-U Twister.”

As I was snapping out broncs on the old Flying U
At forty a month, a good buckaroo
When the boss comes around and says, “Says, my lad
At riding rough ponies, will you don’t look bad

“At riding the rough strain you’re not so slow
You might do some good at the big rodeo
You say I don’t got no more ponies to break
But I’ll buy you a ticket and give you a stake

Lay off the liquor and don’t you get full
And think you can ride that old big Brahma bull
He’s bad as you make ’em, and don’t you forget
He’s thrower a lot of riders, he ain’t been rode yet”

So I packs up my war bag and starts raising dust
I’m a-hunting that show and that will bull to bust
I enters their contest and pays in my fee
Then tells ’em to look at a rider, that’s me

Well, they look me all over and said, “Yes, he’s full
Let’s give him a shot at that big Brahma bull”
“I’ve come a long ways and I’m not here to brag
But I bet you my outfit I’ll gentle that stag”

So wile they were gettin’ him into the chute
I’m a-buckling the spurs to the heels of my boots
Then looks that brute over, and to my surprise
He’s a foot and a half just between his two eyes

He’s got two high horns that look pretty bad
He weighs a good ton and that whole ton was mad
Right over his withers he packs a big hump
So I takes a deep seat right behind that big lump

Well, I leaned over so to open her wide
“I’ll be back in a minute to bring you his hide”
They opened that chute gate and I’m telling’ you
Right there at the entrance, boys, he come in two

He hit for the east, but he lit up the west
I’m a-sittin’ up high, I’m sure doing my best
Those horns are a-tossing right under my chin
But I’m still sitting straight and trying to grin

Well the crowd gets to cheering’ both me and the bull
But they don’t do no good cause I’ve got my hands full
He’s dipping so low that my boots fill with dirt
And he’s poppin’ the buttons right off of my shirt

He gets the fence rowing and weaving behind
My head gets to popping, I sorta go blind
When he takes to hand-springing way up in the air
And leaves me a-sitting on nothing up there

Up there I turned over, below I can see
He’s pawin’ the ground, he’s sure waiting for me
I pictures a grave and a slab made of wood
Reading, “Here lies a rider that thought he was good”

I hit on the ground and I’ve got enough sense
To outrun that bull to a hole in the fence
I get my old saddle and I’m telling you
I high-tailed her back to that old Flying U

Published in Songs of the Sage by Curley Fletcher (Kellaway-Idle Co, 1931).

It was up in the Bad Lands, I was rangin’ alone
I first heard of this cayuse, The Ridge Runnin’ Roan
He was fleet as a deer and as tough as a mule
Pretty as a picture and nobody’s fool

High headed and leggy, he was just built for speed
The cowboy that roped him could own that there steed
I figured the reason this bronk was still free
Was he never had crossed a mustanger like me

So I went right to work and I got me a pair
Of the best saddle horses that ever wore hair
I hunted that mustang and I took to his trail
When he hit for the ridges he was packin’ the mail

I never did head him nor turn him about
I aimed to just trail him till I wore him plum out
Then for five or six days I gained not an inch
He was wearin’ no crutches and that was cinch

He was tough as a boot and as wise as a fox
He kept on the ridges and a-dodgin’ the rocks
I’d trail him till dark and at dawn I’d begin
Till I got pretty weak and my horses got thin

I followed those tracks till I got stiff and sore
But he stayed right in front where he kept makin’ more
Then I got so I felt like a tired, locoed sheep
A-trailin’ that fuzztail and a-losin’ my sleep

He went short for water, with no time to graze
While I camped on his trail for seventeen days
Then he got awful gaunt–he was wearin’ out fast
Till he looked like a ridge runnin’ ghost at the last

He was placin’ his feet like he’s walkin’ on tacks
Till I saw he was leavin’ fresh blood in his tracks
So I started to crowd him and turned him around
He quit the rough ridges and hunted soft ground

I shook out a loop when we got to a flat
I threw a riata and it fit like my hat
He sure gave up quick when I jerked out the slack
Then I noticed some old saddle marks on his back

I had done myself proud and I felt like a champ
When I got him all haltered and headed for camp
He was strikin’, and kickin’, and plum fightin’ mad
I could see he was spoiled and sure enough bad

Well, I got him at home and into the corral
I fed him some hay and some oats for a spell
When he got fat and strong and I gave him the news
I hog-tied him down and nailed on some shoes

Then I put on the bridle and I fixed it to fit
It wasn’t the first time that he’d champed a bit
I threw on my saddle and I cinched it right down
Then I crawled his old carcass–I was headed for town

I drug out my quirt, ‘case to me he looked tame
Like a twenty-two pistol on a forty-five frame
I got a deep seat and I froze to the cantle
I jabbed in my meat-hooks clear up to the handle

He let out a bawl and he went from that spot
Like the ground where he stood had sudden got hot
He topped that first jump with a shimmy and shake
Like a-poppin’ the head from a live rattlesnake

Then he went to sun-fishin’, he sure was a peach
And I turned from a wild-cat into a leech
He was mad as a hornet and I guess he saw red
He was handy afoot and his feet wasn’t lead

I thought I was up on the hurricane deck
Of an earthquake and a cyclone a-havin’ a wreck
I was doin’ my best and was just gettin’ by
But he’s doin’ better with blood in his eye

He was duckin’, and dodgin’, and a-walkin’ the dog
He had me so dizzy I was lost in the fog
And then he got busy and the things that he did
Was like a volcano that had blew off the lid

He was bawlin’, and gruntin’, a-humpin’ the hump
He turned wring side out with every new jump
At ridin’ bad horses I’m no crippled squaw
But he showed some tricks that I never had saw

With a giratin’ jump he goes over the gate
And I grabbed for the horn, but I was too late
He hit with a jar that ‘most shed his hair
It busted me loose and I quit him right there

Of all the bad horses that I ever rode
None was like him, for he seemed to explode
He busted me up and I’m still stiff and lamed–
That Ridge Runnin’ Outlaw will never be tamed

The last time I saw him, he was crossin’ a bridge
He was high-tailin’ back to his favorite ridge
I’ve borrowed an outfit as I’ve none of my own–
My riggin’ ran off on the Ridge Runnin’ Roan

I been ridin’ fer cattle the most of my life
I ain’t got no family, I ain’t got no wife
I ain’t got no kith, I ain’t got no kin
I allus will finish what ere I begin

I rode down in Texas where the cowboys are tall
The State’s pretty big but the hosses er small
Fer singin’ to cattle, I’m hard to outdo
I’m a high-lopin’ cowboy, an’ a wild buckeroo

I rode in Montana an’ in Idaho
I rode for Terasus in old Mexico
I rope mountain lion an’ grizzly bear
I use cholla cactus fer combin’ my hair

I cross the dry desert, no water between
I rode through Death Valley without no canteen
At ridin’ dry deserts I’m hard to outdo
I’m a high-lopin cowboy an’ a wild buckeroo

Why, I kin talk Spanish and Injun to boot
I pack me a knife and a pistol to shoot
I got no Senorita, an’ I got no squaw
I got no sweetheart, ner mother-in-law

I never been tied to no apron strings
I ain’t no devil, but I got no wings
At uh dodgin’ the ladies, I’m hard to outdo
I’m a high-lopin’ cowboy, an’ a wild buckeroo

I drink red whiskey, an’ I don’t like beer
I don’t like mutton, but I do like steer
I will let you alone if you leave me be
But don’t you get touch an’ crawl on me

I’ll fight you now at the drop of a hat
You’ll think you’re sacked up with a scratchin’ wild cat
At rough ready mixin’ I’m hard to outdo
I’m a high-lopin’ cowboy, an’ a wild buckeroo

Hendren 673

“A bunch of us boys sittin’ on the corral
Talkin ‘ about old Strawberry, a real cowboy’s pal
Throwing all cowboys time after time
Turning in circles as small as a dime

From the west rides a stranger, a ranch lady’s aid
“Just wonderin’ , boys, if you’ve seen any strays”
An old 44 hung low on his hip
A cigarette butt burned close to his lip

“What’s all that attraction in that there corral?”
“Just on old roan, a real cowboy ‘s pal.
There’s not any guy that’s e’er rode the roan.
Go ahead, stranger, ride him, but I think you’ll get throwed”

“I will just call your bluff, that little old roan
Here’s one cowboy left he never has thrown.
Stick on that saddle, I ain’t got much time”
[Sic]

He swung to the saddle with the greatest of ease
Old Strawberry seemed to float on the breeze
And under his belly we saw the blue sky
We yelled at the stranger a-fightin’ the flies

Then we saw a sight that sure was a freak
Old Strawberry went over the old corral gate
A flash of a hand and out came a gun
While on the corral a pair of them hung.

We rushed to the rider, his right foot held tight
Old Strawberry lay there, a pitiful sight
“Say, fellers, no hurry! I stopped him with lead”
One look at the roan and we knew he was dead.

When all the ranch hands were gathered around
It seemed all were shocked as they gazed at the ground
“I’m real sorry, boys, ” came a voice very low
“‘Twas me or that cayuse, ’cause one had to go”

We unainahed the saddle, all in a day
Old Strawberry Roan has gone on his way
That evening at sunset we laid him to vest.
At the head of his grave we all signed this request:

“Poor old Strawberry Roan
All the names found below he has thrown
His saddle hangs here, please leave it alone
This marks the fate of the Strawberry Roan”

Henren 758

I know you have all heard the story
Of Strawberry and ridge runnin’ roan
Once they were peaceful range ponies
The bad lands it was their home.

Goodbye old Strawberry Roan
Your fame over the world it is known
In Heaven I know you’ll be happy
With your brother the ridge runnin’ roan

One day at the Stampede in Cheyenne
It was there that Strawberry was shown
‘Twas there he took to bucking
The cowboys who got on him were thrown

Goodbye old Strawberry Roan
Your fame over the world it is known
In Heaven I know you’ll be happy
With your brother the ridge runnin’ roan

His fame it had spread over the ranges
So majestic unconquered was he
This outlaw who came from the badlands
This king of the open prairie

Goodbye old Strawberry Roan
Your fame over the world it is known
In Heaven I know you’ll be happy
With your brother the ridge runnin’ roan

Now Strawberry he was the brother
Of that outlaw, the ridge runnin’ roan
He yearned with the years to be with him
In the bad lands it was their home

Goodbye old Strawberry Roan
Your fame over the world it is known
In Heaven I know you’ll be happy
With your brother the ridge runnin’ roan

So one day they gave him his freedom
His days as an outlaw were done
So he went right back to the prairie
Right back to his freedom and fun

Goodbye old Strawberry Roan
Your fame over the world it is known
In Heaven I know you’ll be happy
With your brother the ridge runnin’ roan

But when he reached the badlands
The years they had taken their toll
So there all alone on the prairie
Strawberry he died in the cold

Goodbye old Strawberry Roan
Your fame over the world it is known
In Heaven I know you’ll be happy
With your brother the ridge runnin’ roan

I wonder if up there in Heaven
Up there in that heavenly home
Will he run free and majestic
The unconquered Strawberry roan

Goodbye old Strawberry Roan
Your fame over the world it is known
In Heaven I know you’ll be happy
With your brother the ridge runnin’ roan

Henren 842

You’ve all heard the story, a good one I owm
Of a bucking old broncho, a strawberry roan
As I strolled o’er the ranch one day in July
A group of cowpuncher’s [sic] I happened to spy.

I’m a rip roaring puncher from my head to my toes
But you never would think it to look at my clothes
I walked over toward them, determined to see
Why all of the cussing and swearing could be

Then out in a corral I happen to spy
A wild bucking broncho with little pig eyes
I watched him a-bucking, and knew at a glance
That the guy that piled on him would sure take some chance

Well I knew that that broncho no courage did lack
He had throwed every puncher that got on his back
But I says I’m a dare devil wanting to see
If that bucking old devil had more spunk than me

Well that tickled the punchers, they laughed till they cried
When they found out that broncho I wanted to ride
“We all have been throwed by that outlaw it’s true
And he’ll not be rode by a greenhorn like you”

I says, “You can’t stop me, it’s no use to try”
I was soon on his back heading up towards the sky
We turned 40 flipflops before I could see
That this bronco did’t [sic] aim to be ridden by me

Well this bronc hits the ground and turns to one side
I says to myself, here’s the end of my ride
Then to my amazement I turns and spies
A cute little cowgirl with twinkling blue eyes

I never before had seen such a miss
As I grips to the saddle she throws me a kiss
She smiled up at me, set my heart in a whirl
Now I’ll stick to that devil just to please this cowgirl

For fifteen long minutes, that old devil fights
But I’m still sticking on him, a holding my rights
Then at last he gives up, calms down like a lamb
There never was a feller more proud than I am

Well, my joints are all twisted, my back’s a bit lame
But there’s one thing I know, that bronco I did tame
If it pleases that miss with the twinkling blue eyes
I’ll ride any bronc till he curls up and dies

Henren 1212

We’re all layin’ round, spinnin’ some yarns
Up rode a stranger and stops at the barns
His chaps were gold spotted, on the leg at the right
Was a name in gold spots, ’twas Harry H. Knight

He looked like a kid that had just left his home
And I says, “Say, young feller, how long have you roamed?”
He says he’s no phony and loosened a cinch
Took a seat in the shade on a rickety bench

Then up comes the boss, “Whose bronco is that?”
“That kid’s over there in a ten gallon hat”
The boss looks him over. “S’pose you want a job?”
He said that he did so he says, “See her lad.” [sic]

“In the mornin’ we’re roundin’ up a bunch mustangs
I think I can use you if you’re a good man
Next morning we started on the old prairie trail
To round up them horses back to the corral

Fin’ly we sights ’em, starts chasin’ em back
But the kid he’s done missin’ in a ten gallon hat
So we sees him come on a horse white with foam
An’ ahead of him, snortin’ come a strawberry roan,

“Say, here’s one you missed, he sure made me ride”
We tells him no man livin’ can stick to that hide
“I’d just like to try him, doggone that ol’ hide
I’ve never seen a pony that I couldn’t ride”

Well right after chuck, took a good snort of rum
We set on the corral bars to watch all the fun
He uncoiled his rope like the hiss of a snake
Ol’ strawberry ducked just a second too late.

Well, he gets his ol’ saddle, screws her down tight
Ol’ strawberry stands there shakin’ with fright
He woke with a snort when he felt the sharp spur
Rake down his two shoulders an’ back to his rear.

Across the corral he goes like a shot
While the kid started fannin’ that ol’ ten gallon hat.
The way that horse bucked no man can describe
His tail’s all that saved him from loosin’ his hide.

We kept a-yellin’ with all our might
“Ride him cowboy; you’re winnin’ the fight”
He lay dawn and rolled, squealed like a rat
But the kid kep’ a fannin’ that ten gallon hat.

He turned and looked back, just seemed to say
“It’s all right, ol’ feller, you’ve won out today
You’re the first guy that’s ever been known
To stay on my back, I’m ol’ strawberry roan”

Poor ol’ strawberry roan
All the guys tried to board him, got thrown
But a kid come from Banff, and took a big chance
But he rode ol’ strawberry roan

Henren 1006

No doubt you’ve all heard of the Strawberry roan
That buckin’ old cayuse, and the boys he has thrown
Now I’ll give you a tip that will make your head swim
How a poor country girl took it all out of him
His fame was broadcast till she got all upset
And she says, “I can ride him and straight up, you bet”
So she bade farewell to the old folks at home
And set out to look for that strawberry roan

Oh, that strawberry roan
Oh, that strawberry roan
I’ll find him, I’ll ride him, I’ll break his old heart
I’ll knock on his lattice work right from the start
On the ribs of that strawberry roan

Now she found that old roan at a big rodeo
And I’m tellin’ you, fellas, ’twas half of the show
He came out of the chute a rearin’ straight up
Makin’ kangaroos jumps and he wouldn’t let up
Till she climbed right up and bit his cropped ear
And right then and there he left this old sphere
But the girl’s sittin’ pretty and seems right at home
As she spurs the whole length of that strawberry roan

Oh, that strawberry roan
Oh, that strawberry roan
He can ‘t jump a lick, he ‘s a puddin ‘ to ride
She’s makin’ lace curtains out of his ornery old hide
The hide of that strawberry roan

Now while he’s a buakin’, she jumps to the ground
Then back in the saddle with one single bound
Why she’s makin’ a monkey of this here old roan
Says she’d like to have him for her little sister at home
She ‘lows her old grandma could ride him to town
Take a settin’ of eggs to the old Widow Brawn
Why the man that can ‘t ride him should never compete
But go back to the range with old Shep and herd eheep.

Oh, that strawberry roan
Oh, that strawberry roan
There never was a hustler that never was throwed
Nor never a broncho that couldn’t be rode
Includin’ the strawberry roan

Now that old outlaw is broke to a cart
A chink husker bought him and works him right smart
He peddles anions, string beans and pease, [sic]
Old roany’s plumb gentle and sprung at the knees
And as he patiently waits at some lady ‘s back door
He can readily see he’s an old 44
So cowboys now, before it’s too late
Or like the roan you’ll be waitin’ at some lady’s gate

Oh, that strawberry roan
Oh, that strawberry roan
Like you salty punchers he’s ranged far and wide
But now he stands waitin’ while women decide
Oh, that strawberry roan

Hendren 309

A Tin Pan Alley song inspired by “Strawberry Roan”

I met her at the Rodeo
When I met her I knew I was thrown
When she smiled my heart went ske-daddle
For the Strawberry Blonde on the Strawberry Roan

Oh, her eyes were a couple of blue skies
And her hair caught each sunbeam that shone
I’d give my best horse and my saddle
For the Strawberry Blonde on the Strawberry Roan

It didn’t take me a second glance
To know that I’d been roped and branded by romance
I took a chance and asked her weather [sic]
She’d consider ridin’ double thru this troubled world together

But she showed me a ring on her finger
And I knew I was ridin’ alone
Tho’ she’s gone, sweet memories still linger
Of the Strawberry Blonde on the Strawberry Roan
Of the Strawberry Blonde on the Strawberry Roan

Collected by Austin E. Fife from the singing of Eda D. Smith, Preston, Idaho, 1958, FAC I 388

She’s an angel in truth and a demon in fiction
A woman’s the greatest of alt contradiction
She’s afraid of a cockroach, she’ll scream at a mouse
But she’ll tackle a husband as big as a house

She’ll take him for better, she’ll take him for worse
She’ll split his head open and then be his nurse
And when he is well and can get out of bed
She’ll pick up the teapot and throw at his head.

Oh, the dear wife of mine
Oh, the dear wife of mine
She tells me she loves me, truly she does
But she nags at me all of the time

She ‘s faithful deceitful, keen-sighted and blind
She’s crafty, she’s simple, she’s cruel, she’s kind
She’ll lift a man up, she’ll cast a man down
She’ll make him a king, she’ll make him her clown

You fancy she’s this, and she finds she is that
For she plays like a kitten and bites like a cat
In the morning she does, in the evening she don’t
You’re always expecting she will, but she won’t

Oh, the dear wife of mine
Oh, the dear wife of mine
She tells me she loves me, truly she does
But she nags at me all of the time