#
 This is probably the most notable of all cowboy songs.  In a capsule, it 
portrays the history of cattle raising, the business that created the
cowboy.  The first verse details it all.  Note that we "ride" along.  We
don't gallop, don't cantor, don't trot--we wear our hat, you'll never see
us without our hat.  The only extravagance portrayed here is what is known
as "jinglebobs" on his spurs.  Jinglebobs, that is the real name, no-kiddin',
are those things that make Clint Eastwood go "ching-ching-ching" as he
walks down the dusty street and wastes the bad-guys in those great 
"spaghetti" westerns.  Some guys will tell you that the "music" of the
jinglebobs tended to keep the cattle calm on the drives.  Sounds as good as
anything I guess.  


                      "Git along, little dogies"

Capo the 3rd fret--

1: D                 G           D                               E7      A7   
As I was walking one morning for pleasure, I spied a cow-puncher aridin' along.
    D                            G           D 
His hat was throwed back and his spurs were ajinglin', and as he approached
       A7           D
he was singin' this song:    CHROUS
    

2:   D                       G            D
It's early in spring that we round up the dogies, We mark them and brand 
         E7            A7         D     G    
them and bob off their tales.  We round up our horses, load up the
      D                                    A7       D  
chuck wagon, and then throw the dogies out onto the trail.    CHORUS


3:
It's whooping and yelling
 and drivin' the dogies
And oh how I wish
 you wuld only go on!
It's whooping and punching,
 go on, little dogies,
You know that Wyoming 
 will be your new home.
CHORUS

4:
Some boys, they go up on
 the trail just for pleasure,
But that's where they get it
 most awfully wrong.
You haven't a notion
 the trouble they give us,
It takes all our time
 to keep moving along.
CHORUS

5:
Your mother was raised
 way down in Texas,
Where the jimson weed
 and the sandburs grow.
We'll fill you up
 on prickly pear and cholla,
Then throw you on 
 the trail to Idaho.
CHORUS


CHORUS---
         D  G  D        G           D
Whoop-ee ti-yi-yo, git along little dogies, It's
                            E7 A
your misfortune and none of my own.
         D  G  D        G           D             
Whoop-ee ti-yi-yo, git along little dogies,
                      E7   A7          D
You know that Wyoming will be your new home.


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ANDREW D. LOWRY
INDIANA UNIVERSITY
alowry@silver.ucs.indiana.edu