Historical Folk Lyrics
"The Hills Of Mexico"

Well, I landed in old Santa Fe in nineteen hundred and three.
Ben Johnson there, by name sir, stepped up and says to me,
"How do you do, young fellow, how'd you like to go
And spend one summer punchin' in the hills of New Mexico?"

Well, me being out of employment, to Ben Johnson I did say,
"As for me going with you, it depends upon the pay;
If you pay good wages and a pretty good mount too,
I really think that I will go and spend one summer through."

With all of his flattering talk he enlisted quite a train,
About twenty of us in number, all able-bodied men.
The trip it was a pleasant one, the way we had to go,
'Til we crossed the Rio Grande in the hills of New Mexico.

The Rio Grande was salty as brine-and alkali too,
Ben Johnson led the way, and you bet he put us through.
The way the mosquitoes and buffalo gnats did work, it was not slow,
There is no worse hell upon earth than the hills of New Mexico.

Well, now the trip is ended and we reached Ben Johnson's farm,
The first old bronco I tried to break, by God, he broke my arm.
While punchin' the damned old longhorns, our lives, we had no show,
There was Indians to pick us off in the hills of New Mexico.

Now the round-up's over and Ben Johnson would not pay,
He said we'd been so extravagant that he was in debt that day.
But we showed him about the punchers, that old bankrupt would not go,
So we left Ben Johnson's bones to bleach in the hills of New Mexico.

Now the summer's ended and homeward we are bound
And in this cursed country we will never more be found;
Go home to our wives and sweethearts and tell others not to go
To that God-forsaken country in the hills of New Mexico.