He always sings raggy music to the cattle
+
As he swings back and forward in the saddle
+
On a horse that is syncopated, gaited
+
And there's such a funny meter to the roar of his repeater
+
How they run when they hear that fellow's gun
+
Because the Western folks all know
+
He's a highfaluting, scooting, shooting son-of-a-gun from Arizona
+
Fit as a fiddle and ready for love
+
He always sings raggy music to the cattle
+
As he swings back and forward in the saddle
+
On a horse that is syncopated, gaited
+
And there's such a funny meter to the roar of his repeater
+
How they run when they hear that fellow's gun
+
Because the Western folks all know
+
He's a highfaluting, scooting, shooting son-of-a-gun from Arizona
+
Fit as a fiddle and ready for love
+
