Lyrics:

'Twas in the town o' Jacksboro, in the spring o' seventy-three
A man by the name o' Crego come steppin' up to me
Said how d'you do young fellers, and how'd you like to go
And spend one summer pleasantly on the range o' the buffalo

It's me bein' out of employment, to ol' Crego I did say
This goin' out on the buffalo range, depends upon the pay
But if you'll pay good wages, and transportation too
I think sir I will go with you to the range o' the buffalo

Well it's now we've crossed Pease River boys, our troubles they have begun
First old stinker that I cut - Christ how I cut my thumb
While skinnin' the dog-gone ol' buffalo, our lives they had no show
For the Indians watched to pick us off, while skinnin' the buffalo

The season bein' near over, ol' Crego he did say
The crowd had been extravagant, was in debt to him that day
We coaxed him an' we argued, but still it was no go
We left his damned ol' bones to bleached on the range o' the buffalo

It's now we've crossed Pease River, and homeward we are bound
No more in that old fire country, will ever we be found
Go back to our wives and sweethearts, tell others not to go
For God's forsaken the buffalo range, and the damn ol' buffalo