Still, I've not a word of blame
For those horses, just the same;
A yelping Injun, daubed with clay, he isn't nice to see.
And I ain't forgot the day
When my long-legg'd Texas bay
Wasn't scared enough of Injuns not to save my life for me.
I was lyin' snug and low
In a hollow full of snow
When the hostiles flanked the squadron from a wooded ridge near by,
And, of course, the boys, at that,