I ride an old paint,
I lead an old band,
I'm going to Montana to throw the hooligan.
I ride an old paint,
I lead an old band,
I'm going to Montana to throw the hooligan.
They feed in the coolies,
they water in the draw,
their tails are all matted,
their backs
are all raw.
Ride around little doggies,
ride around them slow,
for the fiery and snuffy are raring
to go.
Old Bill Jones had a daughter and a son,
son went to college and the daughter went wrong,
his wife got killed
in a pool room fight,
but still he keeps singing from morning till night.
Ride around little doggies,
ride around them slow,
for the fiery and snuffy are raring to go.
I've been to the city,
worked on the farm,
all I got to show is this muscle in my arm,
blisters on my feet,
callus on my hands,
and I'm going to Montana to throw the hooligan.
Ride around little doggies,
ride around them slow,
for the fiery and snuffy are raring to go.
When I die,
take my saddle from the wall,
put it on my pony, lead him out of his stall,
put the bones to his back,
turn our faces to the west,
and we'll ride the prairie that we love the best.