New Mexico

T'was in the town of Griffin, the year was Eighty three It was there an old cow puncher, stepped up and said to me '€œHow do you do young fellow and how would you like to go And spend a pleasant summer, out in New Mexico?'€ I'll furnish you good wages, your transportation too If you will but go with me, one summer season through But if you should get homesick and back to Griffin go Then I'll furnish you no horses from the hills of Mexico We left the town of Griffin in the merry month of May When all the world was lovely and everything was gay With saddles on our horses, marching over we did go Until we reached the logging out in New Mexico It was there our pleasures ended and our troubles they began The first hail storm fell on us, those cattle how they ran Through all the thorns and thistles, us cowboys had to go While the Indians watched upon us, out in New Mexico Well, when the drive was over, the riders would not pay To all you happy people, this much I have to say Go back to your friends and loved ones, tell others not to go To the God forsaken country, they call New Mexico