Historical Folk Lyrics
"Eleven Slash Slash Eleven"

It's round in your cavy, and it's rope out your hack
And strap your old kack well fast upon his back.

Chorus:
Singing hi-yi-yuppy, yuppy, hi-yuppy-yea,
Singing hi-yi-yuppy, yuppy, hi-yuppy yea.

Your foot in your stirrup and your hand on the horn,
You're the- best damned cowboy that ever was born.

You land in the saddle and you give a loud yell,
For the longhorn cattle have got to take the hill.

You round up a bunch of doggies and take down the trail,
But the very first thing you land in jail.

But the sheriff's an old puncher and he fixes out your bail,
For it's a damned poor country with a cowboy in jail.

So you round in your foreman and you hit him for your roll,
For you're going to town and act a little bold.

You strap on your chaps, your spurs, and your gun,
For you're going to go to town and have a little fun.

You ride a big bronc that will buck and prance
And you pull out your gun and make the tenderfoot dance.

You go into the gambling house a-looking kinder funny,
For you got every pocket just chock full of money.

You play cards with the gambler who's got a marked pack,
And you walk back to the ranch with the saddle on your back.

Now I've punched cattle from Texas to Maine
And known some cowboys by their right name;

No matter, though, whatever they claim,
You'll find every dirty cuss exactly the same.

So dig in your spurs and peel your eyes to heaven,
But never overlook a calf with Eleven Slash Slash Eleven.