I ride an old paint and I lead an old Dan,
Goin' to Montana to throw the houlihan.
Feed 'em in the coulees, and water in the draw,
Their tails are all matted and their backs are all raw.
Ride around, little dogies, ride around them slow,
For the fiery and snuffy are a-rarin' to go.
Old Bill Jones had a daughter and a son,
Son went to college, and his daughter went wrong.
His wife got killed in a free-for-all fight,
Still he keeps singin' from mornin' 'till night.
When I die, take my saddle from the wall,
Put it onto my pony, lead him out of his stall.
Tie my bones on his back, an' turn our faces to the west,
We'll ride the prairies that we loved the best.
I've worked in the town and I've worked in the farm,
All I got to show's just this muscle in my arm,
Blisters on my feet, callous on my hand,
And I'm a-goin' to Montana to throw the houlihan.
