The Stockyard Liar
Author Unknown

Now, if you're ever riding a young 'un,
There's bound to be perched on the rails
Of the stock yard, some grizzly old tough one,
Whose source of advice never fails.

He'll tell you a tail, and a rum one,
With never a amile on his face,
How he broke for old somebody's someone,
At some unapproachable place.

How they bucked and they snorted and screeched,
How he spurred 'em and flogged 'em and how,
He would gallop them 'round till they reached -,
But he's getting to old for it now.

Now you're 'standing too far from her shoulder',
Or you're too dam close to the same,
How he could have taught you to hold her,
In the days when he followed the game.

He will hussle, annoy and un-nerve you,
Till even your confidence fails,
Oh, shades of old Nimrod protect us,
From the bugger who sits on the rails.

Now the chances are strong the old duffer,
Has been talking for something to say,
And has never rode anything rougher,
Than the shafts of old somebody's dray.

Now there are laws for our proper protection,
From murder, theft and the rest,
But the criminal wanting inspection,
Is a-riding a rail in the west.

And the law that our country requires,
At the hands of her statesman of sense,
Is the law to make meat of all liars,
That can sit a rough buck on a fence.