MILLING WITH THE NIGHT HERD 

 "Altogether-r-r, boys — noo." 



Oh ! you ought to see, you ought to see our skinner- 

 You ought to see, he's surely something fine; 



You ought to see, you ought to see our skinner, 

 He's a winner at his dinner at this old combine. 



Now I'm the header-puncher, don't forget that's me 



I do more work, you bet, then all the other three, 

 A-workin' my arms and a-workin' my feet, 

 A-picking up the barley and the golden wheat, 

 I got to push up the brake and turn on the wheel, 

 I got to watch the sickle and the draper and the reel, 

 And if I strike a badger hill and pull up a rock, 

 They holler "Well, he's done it, the damn fool Jock." 



"Hop tae the chorus, cowboys — knock 'em dead!" 



Oh! I'm that guy, I'm the header-puncher, 

 I'm that guy though it isn't in my line, 



I'm that guy — I'm the header-puncher 



I'm the header-puncher on this old combine. 



It was a remarkable portrayal of one of the by- 

 phases of modern ranch life. It got under the skins 

 of the crowd and a full five minutes elapsed before 

 the applause died away. 



"Give us your Round-Up song, Jock, before this 'er 

 corral puts up the bars for the night." 



"All r-r-right, boys — My Heart Goes Back to Dear 

 Old Pendleton. Now, you fellers put some high-life 

 into this chorus. Make it snappy Mister-r-r Piano- 

 puncher-r-r; put a handle on it and tur-r-rn it." 



Now I've sailed the sea, I've seen gay Paree, 

 I've seen the sights of old London. Though I'm far away, 

 I never stray from that dear old town I was born in ; 



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