This is how it's written in the songbook put together by the group of the same name. It's a fun song.

Rex
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The Bunkhouse Orchestra
Badger Clark 1920

Wrangle up your mouth-harps, drag your banjo out,
Tune your old guitarra till she twangs right stout,
For the snow is on the mountains and the wind is on the plain,
But we'll cut the chimney's moaning with a livelier refrain.

Shinin' 'dobe fireplace, shadows on the wall,
(See old Shorty's friv'lous toes a-twitchin' at the call:)
It's the best damn high that there is within the law
When seven jolly punchers tackle "Turkey in the Straw".

Freezy wast the day's ride, lengthy was the trail,
Ev'ry steer was haughty with a high arched tail,
But we held 'em and we shoved 'em, for our longin' hearts were tried,
By a yearnin' for tobacker and our dear fireside.

Swing'er into stop-time, don't you let 'er droop!
(You're about as tuneful as a coyote with the croup!)
Ay, the cold wind bit when we drifted down the draw,
But we drifted onto comfort and to "Turkey in the Straw".

Snarlin' when the rain whipped, cussin' at the ford--
Ev'ry mile of twenty was a long dischord,
But the night is brimmin' music and its glory is complete,
When the eye is razzle-dazzled by the flip o' Shorty's feet!

Snappy for the dance, now till she up and shoots!
(Don't he beat the devil's wife for jiggin' in 'is boots?)
Shorty got throwed high and we laughed till he was raw,
But tonight he's done forgot it prancin' "Turkey in the Straw".

Rainy dark or firelight, bacon rind or pie,
Livin' is a luxury that don't come high;
Oh, be happy and unruly while our years and luck allow,
For we all must die or marry less than forty years from now!

Lively on the last turn! Lope 'er to the death!
(Reddy's soul is willin' but he's gettin' short o' breath.)
Ay, the storm wind sings and old trouble sucks his paw
When we have an hour of firelight set to "Turkey in the Straw".