A rider from the Two-Bar come with news from off the range:
He said he's seen a dust cloud that looked almighty strange,
So he rode his bronco over, and there, as bold as brass,
He seen a sheepman feedin' his flock upon our grass.
The rider turned home, pronto, and he got the boys aroused,
And they started, whoopin', for where them woolies browsed.
But I met 'em, on their mission, and I heard the hull bunch groan
When I said: 'Now, turn back, fellers, I must play this hand alone.'
I was mad clear to my gizzard when I started for the camp,
And I thought of how I'd punish this vile, sheep-herdin' scamp;
I'd escort him to the deadline, where he'd run his sheep across,