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As I went a-walkin' |
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One mornin' for pleasure, |
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I spied a cowpuncher |
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Come ridin' along; |
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His hat was throwed back, |
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And his spurs was a-jinglin' |
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And as he approached, |
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He was singin' this song. |
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Whoopee ti yi yo, |
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Git along, little dogies, |
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It's your misfortune |
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And none of my own; |
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Whoopee ti yi yo, |
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Git along, little dogies, |
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You know that Wyoming |
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Will be your new home. |
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It's early in spring |
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That we round up the dogies, |
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And mark 'em and brand 'em |
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And bob off their tails; |
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We round up our horses |
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And load the chuckwagon, |
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And then throw them dogies |
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Out onto the trail. |
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Whoopee ti yi yo, |
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Git along, little dogies, |
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It's your misfortune |
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And none of my own; |
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Whoopee ti yi yo, |
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Git along, little dogies, |
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You know that Wyoming |
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Will be your new home. |
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It's whoopin' and yellin' |
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And a-drivin' them dogies, |
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Oh, lord, how I wish |
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That you would go on; |
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It's a-whoopin' and punchin' |
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And go on-a, little dogies, |
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'Cause you know that Wyoming |
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Is to be your new home. |
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Whoopee ti yi yo, |
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Git along, little dogies, |
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It's your misfortune |
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And none of my own; |
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Whoopee ti yi yo, |
|
Git along, little dogies, |
|
You know that Wyoming |
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Will be your new home. |
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Some cowboys go up the trail |
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Just for the pleasure, |
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But that's where |
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They always go gettin' it wrong, |
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For nobody knows just what |
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Trouble they give us, |
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As we start a-drivin' them |
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All the way home. |
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Whoopee ti yi yo, |
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Git along, little dogies, |
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It's your misfortune |
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And none of my own; |
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Whoopee ti yi yo, |
|
Git along, little dogies, |
|
You know that Wyoming |
|
Will be your new home. |
