Little Joe, the Wrangler Michael Martin Murphey

Little Joe the wrangler, he'll wrangle never more
His days with the remuda, they're all done
It was long about last April he rode into our camp
Just a little Texas stray and all alone
It was long late in the evening when he rode into our camp
On a little old brown pony he called Shaw
In his brogan shoes and coveralls, a harder lookin' kid
You never in you life have seen before

His saddle was a Sother kack built many years ago
An OK spur on one foot idly hung
With his bed roll in a cotton sack was loosely tied behind
And a canteen from the saddle horn he'd slung
Said he had to leave his home because his paw had married twice
His new maw beat him every day or two
So he saddled up old Shaw one night and lit a shuck this way
Thought he'd try and paddle now his own canoe

Said he'd try to do the best he could if we'd only give him work
Though he didn't know straight up about a cow
So the boss, he cut him out a mount and kinda put him on
And we knew he liked our little stray somehow

Well, he taught him how to heard the horses and learned to know 'em all
And to get 'em in by daylight if he could
And to follow the chuck wagon and to always hitch the team
And to help the carsonaro rustle wood