Gail Gardner



                              The Sierry Petes


Away up high in the Sierry Petes,
Where the yeller pines grow tall,
Ol' Sandy Bob an' Buster Jig
Had a rodeer camp last fall.

Oh, they taken their hosses and runnin' irons
And mabbe a dawg or two,
An' they 'lowed they'd brand all the long-yered calves,
That come within their view.

And any old dogie that flapped long yeres,
An' didn't bush up by day,
Got his long yeres whittled an' his old hide scorched,
In a most artistic way.

Now one fine day ol' Sandy Bob,
He throwed his seago down,
"I'm sick of the smell of burnin' hair
And I 'lows I'm a-goin' to town."

So they saddles up an' hits 'em a lope,
Fer it warn't no sight of a ride,
And them was the days when a buckaroo
Could ile up his inside.

Oh, they starts her in at the Kaintucky Bar,
At the head of Whisky Row,
And they winds up down by the Depot House,
Some forty drinks below.

They then sets up and turns around,
And goes her the other way,
An' to tell you the Gawd-forsaken truth
Them boys got stewed that day.

As they was a-ridin' back to camp,
A-packin' a pretty good load,
Who should they meet but the Devil himself,
A-prancin' down the road.

Sez he, "You ornery cowboy skunks,
You'd better hunt yer holes,
Fer I've come up from Hell's Rim Rock
To gather in yer souls."

Sez Sandy Bob, "Old Devil be damned,
We boys is kinda tight,
But you ain't a-goin' to gather no cowboy souls
'Thout you has some kind a fight."

So Sandy Bob punched a hole in his seago
And he swang her straight and true,
He lapped it on to the Devil's horns,
An' he taken his dallies too.

Now Buster Jig was a riata man
With his gut-line coiled up neat,
So he shaken her out an' he built him a loop
An' he lassed the Devil's hind feet.

Oh, they stretched him out an' they tailed him down
While the irons was a gettin' hot,
They cropped and swaller-forked his yeres,
Then they branded him up a lot.

They pruned him up with a de-hornin' saw
An' they knotted his tail fer a joke,
They then rid off and left him there,
Necked to a Black-Jack oak.

If you're ever up high in the Sierry Petes
An' you hear one Hell of a wail,
You'll know it's that Devil a-bellerin' around
About them knots in his tail.

      Sierry Petes: the Sierra Prieta Mountain range near Prescott, Arizona
      rodeer: Spanish for "rounding up." A rodeer camp is a round-up out on the range
      bush up: hide in the bushes
      seago: loose hemp rope
      dallies: transliterated from the Spanish dale vueltas, a Mexican term which means "give it some twists," and refers to the
      practice of looping rope lossely (rather than tying "hard and fast") around the saddle horn
      riata: Spanish for rope
      swaller-forked: to make an identifying notch in the ear of cattle, in the shape of a swallowtail



Gail Gardner, Orejana Bull, Prescott Printing Co., 1935.