Kicking the fleas from the point of its ear,…

chunk 974 · paragraph 1305

t three miles from Mobetie, Texas. Oh, the steer, the beautiful steer, Kicking the fleas from the point of its ear, Flapping its tail in its frolicsome glee. Hopping about like a Snake river flea. Bellowing! Roaring 1 Thundering along! Filling the air with its sterical song. Till the rumble from its lung laden pits Scare timid jackrabbits and wolves into fits. To me these is nothing on earth half so dear As the long horned, slim bodied Texican steer. How often I wish that I was a steer. With a long shiny horn at the butt of each ear; With a clear, fearless eye and a tapering tail. That would snap like a whip in the maddening gale ! How Pd beller! And roar! And paw up the ground. And lope over the hills with a thundering sound And snort like a terror and hump up my back When I saw the wild cowboy pursuing my track And I’d laugh at his oaths as he fell to the rear; O, I’d be a Jo Dandy if I was a steer! I once roped a beautiful steer — but I fell. Fell from my pony with ear-piercing yell ! Fell with the lariat fast to my wrist ! Fell to be dragged through the grass wet with mist — Bumping ! Rolling! Grunting, I went ! A full mile a minute or I don’t want a cent. The gravel and grass yanked the hide from my nose. And ruined a pair of forty-cent hose; Aye, even my bustle was thrown out of gear By the frolicsome freaks of that beautiful steer.