It was in the town of Jacksboro, in the year of '33 When a man by the name of Crego, come steppin' up to me Sayin' "How do you do young fella, and how would you like to go And spend the summer pleasant on the range of the buffalo?" Well, it's me bein' out of employment to old Crego I did say "This goin' out on the buffalo range depends upon the pay But if you pay good wages, transportation to and fro I think, sir, I might go with you to the range of the buffalo" "Oh, yes I pay good wages, transportation to and fro If you'll spend the season through on the range of the buffalo If you do become homesick, and to your sweetheart you must go I'll not pay transportation from the range of the buffalo" Well our outfit bein' ready, boys, seventy whole-bodied men With many a six and needle gun, our travels did begin The way it was a pleasant one, the way we had to go Until we crossed Pease River, boys, in the range of the buffalo Well, now we've crossed Pease River, boys, and our troubles have begun First damn tail I went to rip, that's how I cut my thumb The water's salty as Hell's fire, and the beef we could not go And the Indians waited to pick us off, in the range of the buffalo Well our hearts were cased with buffalo hocks, and our souls were cased with steel The hardships of that summer would like to make us reel While skinnin' the damned old stinkers, our lives they had no show But the Indians waited to pick us off, from the plains of Mexico Well, the season bein' near over, boys, old Crego he did say That the boys had been extravagant, and were in debt to him that day We begged him and we pleaded, but still it was no go So we left old Crego's bones to bleach, on the range of the buffalo Well now we've crossed Pease River, boys, and homeward we are bound No more in that Hellfire country, will ever we be found Go home to our wives and sweethearts, and tell others not to go For God's forsaken the buffalo range, and the damned old buffalo NOTE: Pease River is a tributary of the Red River in west Texas.