Oh, days whoop by with swingin' lope
And days slip by a-sleepin',
And days must drag, with lazy rope,
Along the trail a-creepin'.
Heeya-a! you cattle; drift away!
Heeyow! the slow hoofs sift away
And sunny dust clouds lift away,
Along the trail a-creepin'.

My pard may sing of sighin' love
And I of roarin' battle,
But all the time we sweat and shove
And follow up the cattle.
Heeya-a! the bawlin' crowd of you!
Heeyow the draggin' cloud of you!
We're glad and gay and proud of you,
We men that follow cattle!

But all the world's a movin' herd
Where men drift on together,
And some may spur and some are spurred,
But most are horns and leather!
Heeya-a! the rider sings along,
Heeyow! the reined hawse swings along
And drifts and drags and flings along
The mob of horns and leather.

The outlaws fight to break away;
The weak and lame are crawlin',
But only dead ones quit the play,
The dust-cloud and the bawlin'.
Heeya-a! it's grief and strife to us;
Heeyow! it's child and wife to us;
By leap or limp, it's life to us;
The dust-cloud and the bawlin'.

Some dream ahead to pastures green,
Some stare ahead to slaughter,
But, anyway, night drops between
And brings us rest and water.
Heeya-a! you cattle, drift away!
Heeyow! the dust-clouds lift away;
The glarin' miles will shift away
And leave us rest and water.