Away up high in the Sierry Petes where the yeller Jack Pine grows tall
Ol’ Sandy Bob and Buster Jig had a rodeer camp last fall.
Oh, They’d taken their hosses and their runnin’ irons an’ maybe a dog or two
And ‘lowed they’d brand any long eared calves that come within their view.
And any old dogie that flapped long ears, An’ didn’t bush up by day,
Had his long ears whittled an’ his ol’ hide scorched in a most artistic way.
Now, one fine day ol’ Sandy Bob he throwed his seago down
“I’m sick of the smell of burnin’ hair and I low’s I’m a-goin’ to town.”
So they saddles up an’ hits ‘em a lope, ‘fer it weren’t no sight of a ride
And them was the days when a Buckeroo could ‘ile up his insides.
They starts her in at the Kaintucky Bar at the head of Whiskey Row
An’ they winds up down at the Depot House, some forty drinks below.
They then sets up and turns around and goes ‘er the other way
An’ to tell you the Gawd-forsaken truth, them boys got stewed that day!
As they was a-ridin’ back to camp a-packin’ a purty good load
Who should they meet but the Devil hisself just a prancing’ down the road!
Sez he, “You ornery cowboy skunks, you better hunt ‘yer holes!
Fer’ I’ve come up from Hell’s rim rock just to gather in your souls.”
Sez Sandy Bob, “Ol’ Devil be damned . . . we boys is kinda’ tight,
But you ain’t a-gonna’ gather no cowboy souls, without some kind o’ fight!”
So, Sandy Bob punched a hole in his rope, and he swang ‘er straight and true,
An he lapped it onto the Devil’s horns, an’ he taken his dallies too.
Now Buster Jig was a riata man, with his gut-line coiled up neat,
So he shaken her out an’ built him a loop, and he lassed the Devil’s hind feet.
They stretched him out and they tailed him down while the irons was a-gettin’ hot,
They cropped and swaller-forked his yeres, then they branded him up . . . a lot!
They pruned his horns with a de-hornin’ saw an’ they knotted his tail fer a joke,
Then they rid off and left him there, necket to a Black-Jack oak.
Well, if you’re ever up high in the Sierry Petes an’ you hear one Hell of a wail,
You’ll know it’s that Devil a-bellerin’ around about them knots in his tail.
About the Poet Gail Gardner
Gail Gardner’s “Sierry Petes” is a rollicking tale of cowboy antics and mischief, featuring two rowdy buckaroos who manage to outwit the Devil himself in classic Western style. Filled with humor, vivid imagery, and rugged charm, the poem showcases Gardner’s talent for capturing the wild and adventurous spirit of the Old West.
To learn more about Gail Gardner’s life, his impact on cowboy poetry, and his enduring legacy in Arizona’s literary tradition, visit his full biography HERE.
