Bawdy Strawberry Roan

Cat. #0733 (MFH #604) - As sung by Glenn Orhlin, Mountain View, Arkansas on May 29, 1969

I was hang'n 'round town
In a house of ill fame
Layed up with a twist
Of a hustl'n dame
And a hop-headed pig
With his nose full of coke
Beat me out'a my whore
An' left me stone-broke
When up steps a stranger
Said he say, my lad
Are you any good ride'n
Horses that's bad
I said, you damn right
That's one thing I can do
I'm a second rate pimp
But a good buckeroo

O, that strawberry roan
How many colts has he thrown
He's got gonareeha, th glonders an' syph
Th blue-balls n' claps
But his tool is still stiff
Look out for that strawberry roan

When a good look'n filly
Would come inta heat
Was th strawberry roan
That throwed her th meat
Th upshot of it was
I found myself hired
T' snap out some bronc's
This roan stud had sired
Their knot-head cayuse's
Just like their Dad
Most of them roans
An' all of thems bad
With their feet in my pockets
Them bastards would fight
Till my ass drug my tracks
Along before night

With my balls in my boots
N' my mouth full of shit
I'se plumb tuckered out
N' ready to quit
Whenever I thought
I h'd one of them r'de
He busted my ass
An' I found myself throwed
Then th boss come around
He said, that's enough
Th strawberry roan's
Colts are to tough
I'm a get'n damn sick
Of you take'n them falls
We'll get that windmill'n stud
N' we'll cut out his balls

O, that strawberry roan
We went out to unbend his bone
I built a big loop
N' went to th corral
I roped his front feet
He jumped, he kicked
He snorted, he firted n' fell
I flattened that strawberry roan

Well, th boss held his head
While I hog-tied his legs
I got out my knife
N' I went for his eggs
He knowed what I wanted
He knowed it damn well
Cause he fought like a tiger
An' he squealed like hell
Well, I opened his bag
N' he let out a moan
He squealed like a shoate
When I cut out that stone
But all I could locate
T'was one of his nuts
The other was swimin'
Some place in his guts
Well, I'm swim'n in blood
N I felt someth'n pass
But its only a tird
On th way to his ass

Well, th boss said, I'm sick
Of this hard buck'n breed
If it takes us all night
We'll get that other seed
Just then I heard one of them
Blood curdlein' squalls
An' the strawberry roan
Had th boss by th balls
Well, I stomped on his head
But it was no use
He's just like a bulldog
He would'nt turn loose
I untied his legs
N' he got t' his feet
The bosses voice changed
An' I knew he was beat

O, that strawberry roan
I advise you to leave him alone
He's a knot-headed cayuse
With only one ball
But th boss is a un-nicke
With no balls at all
Look out fer that strawberry roan