Run the cattle with a goad,
All we want’s our Oldtown peavies, when our
drives go overboard.
An’ we’ll foller, sloshin’ in,
Yes, we’ll waller to the chin,
An’ we’ll herd ’em through the wildest stream
that ever frothed and roared.
So, look alive,
It’s after five,
An’ the drouth is a-chasin’ the rear o’ the drive.