This morning, me and Billy lost a calf
driving the herd ‘cross Red River.
Boss man cussed us, docked our pay,
but Billy said he don’t care ‘bout that.

Said if all I loved was money, take his half
an’ go drink ‘till I ain’t got no liver.
Told Billy I was gonna stay
and weren’t in no mood for no spat.

I tried a joke to make Billy laugh,
but he called me a dirty fibber.
He was mad, and turned his bay,
and rode off down the flat.

Someday they will be an epigraph
to make the cowpokes shiver:
In the end, every old cowboy rides away,
broke, alone, no horse, no hat.