We welcome folks in Cactus Center if they've got an honest lay;
If their game ain't too durn crooked, we never stop the play;
But a get-rich-quicker blew in, with a game we did n't like,
So we did n't waste the minutes in invitin' him to hike.
He advertised extensive in the papers 'way down East
That he run a school fer cowboys, and there were n't no bronco beast
That his graduates was 'feared of, and a feller was a fool
If he could n't learn rough ridin' in this correspondence school.
When Bear Hawkins heard about it, and about the tons of mail
The feller was receivin', his brown face near turned pale;
And he says: 'Boys, now jest tell me, am I dreamin' or awake,
That our town of Cactus Center stands for any such raw fake?'
So we gathered on the quiet, and we yanked the feller out,
And we made him ride our broncos, till he'd qualified past doubt
Fer the title of Perfesser, which we give him then and there,
And we left him filled with needles from the festive prickly pear.