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2010**lf****lf**LITTLE JOE THE WRANGLER**lf**Writer: Tex Ritter**lf****lf**Called him Little Joe the wrangler, he''ll wrangle never more**lf**His days with the remuda, they''re all done**lf**It was a year ago last April, he rode into our camp**lf**Just a little Texas stray and all alone**lf****lf**Long late in the evening, he rode into our camp**lf**On a little old brown pony he called Shaw**lf**In his brogan shoes and overalls, a tougher lookin'' kid**lf**You never in you life ever saw.**lf****lf**His saddle was a Texas kack made many years ago**lf**An OK spur on one foot idly slung**lf**With his hot roll in a cotton sack loosely tied behind**lf**His canteen on the saddle horn was swung**lf****lf**He said if we''d give him work, he left his home quite young**lf**His new pa beat him every day or two**lf**So he saddled up old Shaw one night and lit a shuck this way**lf**NOw, he''d try to paddle his own canoe.**lf****lf**He said if we''d give him work, he''d do the best he could**lf**Though he didn''t know straight up about a cow**lf**So the boss, he cut him out a mount and kinda put him on**lf**He sorta liked this little kid somehow.**lf****lf**Taught him how to wrangle horses and know''em all by name**lf**Get ''em in by daylight if he could**lf**And to follow the chuck wagon and to always hitch the team**lf**And help the carsonaro rustle wood.**lf****lf**We were camped out at Red River, the weather was just fine**lf**Down by the south side of the bend**lf**When a Norther started blowin'' and we doubled up our guard**lf**It took all hands to get the cattle in.**lf****lf**Little Joe The Wrangler called out with the rest**lf**scarcely had the kid reached the heard**lf**When the cattle all stampeded, like a hailstorm they fled**lf**All of us, we were ridin'' for the lead.**lf****lf**Beneath the streaks of lightnin'', we could see a horse ahead**lf**It was little Joe The Wrangler in the lead**lf**He was riding old Blue Rocket with a slicker over his head**lf**Trying to check the leaders in their speed.**lf****lf**At last, we got''em millin'' and kinda quieted down**lf**The extra guard back to the camp did go**lf**One of us was missing, we all knew at a glance**lf**''Twas that little Texas stray, poor Wrangler Joe.**lf****lf**Next morning, just at day break, we foudn were Rocket fell**lf**In a washout forty feet below**lf**Beneath his horse smashed to a pulp, his spur had rung the knell**lf**Was that little Texas stray, poor Wrangler Joe.**lf****lf****lf**OH BURY ME NOT ON THE LONE PRAIRIE**lf****lf**''Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie,''**lf**These words came sad and mournfully**lf**From the pallid lips of a youth who lay**lf**On his death bed at the close of day**lf****lf**''It matters not, so I''ve been told**lf**Where a body lies when the heart grows cold**lf**But grant, oh, grant one wish to me:**lf**Bury me not on the lone prairie**lf****lf**''Oh, bury me not--''But his voice failed there**lf**We did not heed his dying prayer;**lf**In a narrow grave six by three**lf**We buried him there on the lone prairie