| Bill Erp, the broncho buster,
Was a very valiant lad; A pair of buckskin trousers Were all the pants he had. Bill went to town one evening, A pint of booze to get, Which made him fall into the creek And got him very wet. Now, when his pants began to dry, The waistband tighter grew And in the same proportion, The legs grew shorter, too. So Bill took off his breeches And hung them on a limb, Then watched them slowly fade away Amid the twilight dim. All night they shrunk while Bill lay drunk And got so very small That when he woke next morning He had no pants at all. Bill rode into the camp that day With heart extremely sad Because the buckskin trousers Were all the pants he had. |
Verdigris Valley Verse
Albert Stroud
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)
Page 40
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