He's a quiet, easy fellow, with his pants tucked in his boots,
And he wears a big revolver which he seldom ever shoots;
He has served his time as ranger on the reckless Rio Grande,
and he has the reputation for great marksmanship and sand;
He has strung up several horse thieves in the rustler days gone by,
And although he seems so pleasant there's a devil in his eye.

When he goes to take a prisoner, he calls him by his name,
In that confidential manner which suggests the bunco game;
If the culprit is not willing, takes exception to the plan,
Our Sheriff gets the drop, sire, and he likewise gets his man;
Oh, it's a 'powerful persuadin',' is a pistol 'neath your nose,
'Hands up, you've got to go, Sam, and Sam he ups and goes.

In the fall at 'County 'lections' when the candidates appear,
The Sheriff's awful friendly, for he loves to ';lectioneer';
Then he takes the honest granger and ye stockman by the hand,
And he augers them for votes, sire, in a manner smooth and bland;
He is generous, brave, and courtly, but a dangerous man to sass,
For his manner is suggestive of that sign-'
Keep off the grass
!'

He may run a livery stable, or perchance he keeps hotel;
He may own a bunch of cattle, or may have some lots to sell;
He is full of go and travel, for he's paid so much per mile,
And his little bills for 'extras,' make County Judges smile.
'Hyars lookin' at yer,' Sheriff; come, boys, lets drink her down,
To the most important man, sir! of every Texas town.