Ramblin' Jack Elliott - Rusty Jiggs And Sandy Sam lyrics

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Ramblin' Jack Elliott - Rusty Jiggs And Sandy Sam lyrics

It was way high up in the Sierry Petes Where the yellow pines grow tall Rusty Jiggs And Sandy Sam Had a round-up camp last fall They had their pony's and their running irons And maybe a dog or two And they 'lowed they'd brand all the loppy calves That came within their view Well many a loppier dogie That didn't hush up by day Had his long ears whittled and his old hide scorched In a most artistic way Then says Rusty Jiggs to Sandy Sam As he throwed his seago down "I'm tired of cow biography And I figures I'll go to town" They saddles up, and they hits them a lope For it weren't no side of a ride And them was the days when an old cow punch Could oil up his old insides They starts her out at the Kentucky Bar At the head of the Whisky Row And they ends her up at the Depot House Some forty drinks below Then they winds her up and turns her around And goes her the other way And to tell you the Lord-forsaken truth Them boys got drunk that day Well, as they was a headin' back to camp And packin' a mighty good load Who should they meet but the Devil himself Come prancin' down the road? Now the Devil he said, "You cowboy skunks You better go hunt your hole 'Cause I've come up from the Hell's rim rocks To gather in your souls" Says Rusty Jiggs to the Devil "Though I know we're tight No Devil ever took an old cow punch Without one kind of a fight" So he builds him a hole in his old throw rope And he throw'd it straight and true He caught the devil right around the horns He takes his dallies too Now Sandy Sam was a reata man With his good line coiled up neat But he shakes her out and he builds him a loop And he caught the Devil's hind feet They threw him down on the desert ground While the irons was-a getting hot They cropped and swallow-forked his ears And branded him up a lot And they pruned him up with a dehorning saw And knotted his tail for a joke Rode off and left him bellowing there Necked up to a lilac-jack oak Now, if you're ever up in the Sierry Petes And you hear a hell of a wail You'll know it ain't nothin but the Devil himself Raisin' hell about the knots in his tail

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