Zebra Dun

Cat. #0728 (MFH #736) - As sung by Glenn Orhlin, Mountain View, Arkansas on May 25, 1969

We were camped out on th plains
At th head o' th Cimmaron
Along come a stranger
An' he stopped t' argue some
He looked so very foolish
We begin t' look around
We thought he was a greenhorn
W'h'd just escaped from town

Well, we asked if he'd had breakfast
An' he hadn't a smear
We opened up th chuck box
An' bade 'im take his share
He took a little coffee,
Some biscuits an' some beans
He begin t' talk about
Th foreign Kings an' Queens

About th Spanish War
An' th fight'n on th seas
Guns as big as tears
Ramrods as big as trees
About Paul Jones,
Th fight'n son-of-gun
Who was th grityest cuss
That ever pulled a gun

Such an educated feller
His thoughts just come herds
He astonished all th cowboys
With his jaw - break'n words
He jest kept right on talk'n
Till he make th boys all sick
We begin t' look around
Just how t' play a trick

Well, he said he'd lost his job
Upon th Santa Fay
He was ago'n across th plains
T' strike th Seven-D
He didn't say how come it
Some trouble with th boss
Said, he like t' borrow
A nice fat saddle horse

This tickled all th boys, to death
They laughed right up their sleeves
Said, we'll loan ya a saddle horse
Slick an' fat as ya please
Shorty grabbed th lariat
An' roped ole Zebra Dun
We han's 'im over to th stranger
An' we waited for th fun

Ole Dun'y was an outlaw
Wh'd grown so awful wild
He'd paw th wh'te of th moon
Every jump, for a mile
Ole Duny, he just stood there
As if he didn't know
Till he was saddled
An' ready for t' go

When th stranger hit th saddle
Ole Duny quit th earth
Traveled right straight up for
All that he was worth
Pitch'n an' a squeal'n
An' a hav'n walleyed fits
His hind feet perp-in-dec-u-lar
Th front ones in th fits

We could see th tops of mount'ns
Under Duny every jump
Th stranger he just growed there
Just like a camels hump
Th stranger set upon 'im
An' he twirled his black mustache
Just like a summer boarder
That was wait'n for his hash

He thumped 'im in th shoulders
An' he spurred 'im when he whirled
T' show them flunky punchers
He's th wolf of th world
When th stranger had dismounted
Once more upon th ground
We knowed he was a throughbreed
An' not a gent from town

Th boss had been stand'n 'round
A watch'n of th show
Walks up to th stranger
An' said, ya need'nt go
If you can use a lasso
Like you rode ole Zebra Dun
You're th man I been look'n for
Since th year of one

Well, he could throw th lasso
An' he didn't do it slow
Catch them hind feet, nine out'a ten
Fer any kind o' dough
An' when th herd stampeded
He was always on th spot
N' set them all t' mill'n
Like th boil'n of a pot

Well, there's one thing an' a sure thing
I learned since I been born
Every educated feller
Ain't a plumb green-horn