As I was walking one morning for pleasure, I spied a cow-puncher aridin' along.
His hat was throwed back and his spurs were ajinglin', and as he approached
he was singin' this song: CHROUS
It's early in spring that we round up the dogies, We mark them and brand
them and bob off their tales. We round up our horses, load up the
chuck wagon, and then throw the dogies out onto the trail. CHORUS
It's whooping and yelling
Whoop-ee ti-yi-yo, git along little dogies, It's
your misfortune and none of my own.
Whoop-ee ti-yi-yo, git along little dogies,
You know that Wyoming will be your new home.
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