Your foot in your stirrup and your hand on the horn, You're the best dammed cowboy that ever was born.
You land in the saddle and you give a loud yell For the longhorn cattle have got to take the hill.
You round up a bunch of dogies and take down the trail, But the very first thing you land in jail.
But the sheriff's an old puncher and he fixes out your bail, For it's a damned poor country with a cowboy in jail.
So you round in your foreman and you hit him for your roll, For you're going to town and act a little bold.
You strap on your chaps, your spurs, and your gun, For you're going to go to town and have a little fun.
You ride a big bronc that will buck and prance And you pull out your gun and make the tenderfoot dance.
You go into the gambling house a-looking kinder funny, For you got every pocket just chock full of money.
You play cards with the gambler who's got a marked pack, And you walk back to the ranch with the saddle on your back.
Now I've punched cattle from Texas to Maine- And known some cowboys by their right name.
No matter, though, whatever they claim, You'll find every dirty cuss exactly the same.
So dig in your spurs and peel your eyes to heaven, But never overlook a calf with Eleven Slash Slash Eleven.
Implication of last two verses- watch out for cow thieves, no matter who the rider is on your range. cavy, from caballada, a bunch of horses (your saddle horses) hack, your saddle horse Kack, saddle; from kiak, a box used to carry things on a pack horse.
Ruggles was a rancher, who caried his brand, the Eleven Slash Slash Eleven, from a ranch in Oregon to one in New Mexico.
From J. Frank Dobie, 1928, "More Ballads and Songs of the Frontier Folk," in "Follow De Drinkin' Gou'd," Pub. Texas Folklore Soc. No. VIII, pp. 155-180.