You may talk ’bout duels requirin’ sand,
But the slickest I’ve seen in any land
Was Buffalo Bill’s with Yellow Hand.
Thar wa’n’t no seconds to split the pot,
No noospaper buncombe, none o’ the rot
Your citified, dudefied duels ’as got.
Custer was not long into his shroud
When a bunch o’ Cheyennes quit Red Cloud
To j’in the cranky Sittin’ Bull crowd.
It looked somewhat like a crazy freak,
But Merritt’s cavalry made a sneak
To head the reds at Big Bonnet Creek.
Bill an’ some soljers was on one side,
For which Bill was actin’ as chief an’ guide,
When he git this call from the copper-hide:
“I know ye, Long Hair,” yells Yellow Hand,
A-ridin’ out from his pesky band
(A reg’lar bluff o’ the Injun brand).
“You kill heap Injun, I kill heap white;
My people fear you by day or night;
Come, single-handed, an’ you me fight.”
“I’ll go ye!” quick as a thunder-clap
Says Bill, who jest didn’t care a rap;
“Stan’ by, an’ watch me an’ the varmint scrap.”
They was then ’bout fifty yards apart,
When without a hitch they made a start
Straight for each other, straight as a dart.
The plug which was rid by that Cheyenne
Was plugged by a slug from Bill’s rifle, an’
Bill’s hoss stumbled—now ’twas man to man!