This is the final independent text I've seen.

Rose P. White, “Cowboy Humor,” New Mexico Folklore Record (1948):

                      THE HILLS OF MEXICO

“It was in the town of Griffin
    In the year of ’83,
When an old cow-puncher stepped up,
    And this he said to me:
‘Howdy do, young feller,
    And how’d you like to go
And spend a pleasant summer
    Out in New Mexico?’

“I being out of employment,
    To the puncher I did say:
‘Depends upon the wages,
    That you will have to pay;
You pay to me good wages
    And transportation too,
And I think that I will go with you
    One summer season through

“We left the town of Griffin
      In the merry month of May.
The flowers were all blooming,
      And everything seemed gay.
Our trip it was a pleasure,
      The road we had to go,
Until we reached old Boggy    [sic]
       Out in New Mexico.

“It was there our pleasures ended,
       And troubles then begun.
The first hailstorm come on us,
       Oh, how those cattle run!
Through mesquite, thorns, and thickets
       We cowboys had to go,
While the Indians watched our picket
       Out in New Mexico.

“And when the drive was over,
       The foreman wouldn’t pay.
To all of you good people,
       This much I have to say:
With guns and rifles in our hands,
       I’ll have you all to know,
We left his bones to bleach upon
       The hills of Mexico.                      [sic]

“And now the drive is over,
       And homeward we are bound.
No more in this damned old country
      Will ever I be found.
Back to friends and loved ones
       And tell them not to go
To the God-forsaken country
       They call New Mexico.”