Эрл Алонзо Брининстул (Earl Alonzo Brininstool)

Back to the Range

I've played the movin' picter game,
An' worked it good an' hard,
But it is too all-fired tame
For real cowpunchers, pard.
Them actor-guys are tenderfeet
That never saw the range,
An' when they hit a saddle-seat,
Their ridin's fierce an' strange!
They put us through a lot o' stunts
That punchers never do;
A feller feels jest like a dunce
Afore he gits half through.
It's al a lot o' honey-mush
About some gal, by gee!
'Twould make an honest puncher blush
Sich goin's on to see!
Becuz out on the range, you know,
Around the chaparral,
We never had no time to go
Close-herdin' any gal.
They's too much rustlin' 'round for strays,
Or else a-buildin' fence,
Or brandin' calves on round-up days
For any sich nonsense!
They ain't a cuss in all the bunch
Kin cinch a saddle right;
'Twould fetch a snort from a cowpunch'
Their togs is jest a fright!
The other day I most was floored
Whilst watchin' of the boss
For in the film he climbed aboard
The wrong side of his hawss!
I'm sick of all sich sights as those,
I'll quit an' go back there
Among a bunkhouse bunch that knows
The cowboy fame for fair.
I'll strike for my ol' stompin' ground
Where range life is lived true,
Where there's no tenderfoot around
To show me what to do!