Oh way up high in the Sierra Peaks

Where the yellow-jack pines grow tall

Sandy Bob and Buster Jiggs

Had a round-up camp last fall

They’d taken their ponies and their runnin’ irons

And maybe a dog or two

And they allowed their brand on every long-eared calf

That come within their view

Now many a long-eared dogie

That didn’t push [brush?] up by day

Had his old ears whittled and his old hide sizzled

In a most artistic way

Now Sandy Bob, he said one day

As he throwed his seegar down

“I’m tired of this cow-ography

Cowpiography

And I allows I’m goin’ to town.”

Well they saddled their ponies, and they struck ’em a lope

And how them boys did ride

And them was the days that an old cowboy

Could oil up his old insides

Well they started out at the Kentucky Bar

At the head of the Whiskey Row

And they wound up down at the Depot House

About forty drinks below

Well they set ’em up and they turned ’em around

And they went the other way

And I swear the God-forsaken truth

Them boys got drunk that day

They mounted up and they headed to camp

And they was packin’ a pretty good load

When who should they meet but the Devil himself

Come prancin’ down the road

Well the devil said, “You ornery skunks

You’d better hunt your hole

’Cause I’m the Devil from Hell’s rimrock

Come to gather in your souls.”

Sandy Bob said, “Devil be damned

We may be a little bit tight

But before you gather any cowboy souls

You’re gonna have a helluva fight.”

He swung his rope, and he swung it straight

And he also swung it true

He caught the Devil by both his horns

And taken his dallies too

Now Buster Jiggs was a riata man

With his rawhide coiled up neat

He shook it out, he built him a loop

And he lashed the Devil’s hind feet!

Well they stretched him out, and they tailed him down

And the irons was a-gettin’ hot

They cropped and swallow-forked his ears

And they branded him up a lot

And they left him there in the Sierra Peaks

Next to a blackjack oak

But before they left, they tied some knots

In his tail, just for a joke

So if you’re ever up there in the Sierra Peaks

And you hear one hell of a wail

It’s just the Devil a-bellerin’ about

The knots tied in his tail!