Blinkin’ rough for me to lead, tooth-less, sallow and knock-knee’d
Wasn’t carin’ much for class tho—what I needed was a feed.
When the bunch had grabbed their hand-out and we had ’em on the go,
Then she’d start me for “Dutch” Ryan’s with a two-bit piece to throw.
With her head upon my shoulder at the second growler full,
She was lonesome bo, that widder with the rough-stuff that she’d pull!
How I used to feed her full of the “mush-talk” and the bull
For the snow had begun blowin’ and I didn’t like to pull!
But that’s all put behind me, long ago and far away
Since I hit out for St. Looey one night on the C. & A.