Lyrics:

1990**lf**Writer(s): Michael Martin Murphey**lf****lf**Oh, way up high in the Sierra Peaks**lf**Where the yellow jack pines grow tall**lf**Sandy Bob and Buster Jiggs**lf**Had a round-up camp last fall**lf**They''re takin'' their ponies and they''re runnin'' irons**lf**Maybe a dog or two**lf**And they allowed their brand on every long-eared calf**lf**That come within their view**lf****lf**Now many a long-eared doggy**lf**That didn''t hush up that day**lf**Had his ol'' ears whittled and his ol'' hide sizzled**lf**In the most artistic way**lf**Now, Sandy Bob, he said one day**lf**As he throwed his cigar down**lf**I''m tired of this cowography**lf**And all else, I''m goin'' to town**lf****lf**Well, they saddled their ponies and they struck them a load**lf**And how them boys can ride**lf**And them was the days that an ol'' cowboy**lf**Could oil up his ol'' insides**lf**Well, it started out at the Kentucky bar**lf**At the head of the whiskey row**lf**And they wound up down at the depot house**lf**About forty drinks below**lf****lf**Well, they set ''em up and they turned them around**lf**And they went the other way**lf**And I''ll swear the godforsaken truth**lf**Them boys got drunk that day**lf**They mounted up and they headed to camp**lf**And they''s packin'' a pretty good load**lf**When who should they meet, but the Devil himself**lf**Come prancin'' down the road**lf****lf**Well, the Devil said, ''You ornery skunks**lf**You better hunt your holes**lf**''Cause I''m the Devil from Hell''s Rim Rock**lf**Come to gather in your souls''**lf**Sandy Bob said, ''Devil be damned**lf**It may be a little bit tight**lf**Before you gather any cowboy souls**lf**You gonna have a hell of a fight''**lf****lf**He swung his rope and he swung it straight**lf**He also swung it true**lf**He caught the devil by both his horns**lf**And taken his dallies too**lf**Now Buster Jiggs was a three hatter man**lf**With his rawhide coiled up neat**lf**He shook it out and built him a loop**lf**And he latched the Devil''s hind feet**lf****lf**Well, they stretched him out and they tailed him down**lf**And the irons was gettin'' hot**lf**They cropped and swallow-forked his ears**lf**And they branded him up a lot**lf**And they left him there in the Sierra Peaks**lf**Necked to a black-jack oak**lf**But before they left, they tied some knots**lf**In his tail just for a joke**lf****lf**So if you''re ever up there in Sierra Peaks**lf**And you hear one hell of a wail**lf**It''s just the Devil**lf**A feller and a thousand knots tied in his tail