Arroyo Al’s Cow Pony

Arroyo Al’s Cow Pony.
70.3

I took a trip the summer to the market with some
steers,
And I struck an Eastern city where they sell you
tuba fer beers;
I was feelin’ pretty yowlish and I couldn’t say my
name.
When I wound up somehow ‘nuther, at a high toned
polo game.
There was sunburned dools cavortin’ on some
ponies in a lot.
And they whacked a little spheerold till it traveled
like a shot:
I couldn’t savvy nohow, and I vowed that I was
through,
When I spled & feller ridin’ on a pony that I knew.
It was that there buckskin broncho that I rode for
Cirale Bar.
He was clipped and ofled and powdered, but I
knew each old time sear;
I had lost hirm when Bear Hawkins played an extry
ace and jack.
And I’d alius had a longin’ fer to git that pony
back.
Well, he stopped and sorter snorted when I yelled
an old time “”Yipl””
And he bucked until his rider hit the ground upon
his hip:
And he came a-runnin’ to me, and I jumped upon
his back,
And hed ptiched fer sheer enjoyment when I hit his
And he pitched flank a whack.
Well, I rode across the open and I stooped down on
the run
And picked ced up the polo mallet (fer the player he
was done)
And I hit that ball a crack, air, and it called plum
o’er the fence.
And the crowd jest howled with pleasure, fer they
thought the sport immense.
Well, it cost me jest six hundred fer to get my little
bronk
And to nave that player patched up, from his heels
to injured conk:
But I got my old cow pony-and jest hear this one
thing more:
Don’t whisper “”polo”” to him, or he’ll buck like
Satan shoret”