Ten thousand cattle straying,
They quit my range and travell'd away,
And it's 'sons-of-guns' is what I say,
I am dead broke, dead broke this day.
Dead broke.
Ten thousand cattle straying,
They quit my range and travell'd away,
And it's 'sons-of-guns' is what I say,
I am dead broke, dead broke this day.
Dead broke.
Chorus:
In gambling hells delaying
Ten thousand cattle straying
And it's 'sons-of-guns' is what I say
They've rustled my pile, my pile away.
My girl she has went straying,
She quit me, too, and travell'd away,
With a 'son-of-o-gun' from Ioway,
I'm a lone man, lone man this day.
Dead broke.
So I've took card playing,
I deal the decks but it don't seem to pay,
And it's 'son-of-a gunner' I get each day,
And nothing will come, will come my way.
Dead broke.
My luck has gone straying,
I make no strike by night or day,
But it's 'sons-of-guns' I still will say,
For I'm in the game, the game to stay.
Dead broke.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem