As I was a-walkin' one mornin' for pleasure,
I spied a cowpuncher a-lopin' along.
His hat was throwed back and his spurs was a-jinglin'
And as he approached he was singin' this song:

Chorus
Whoopee ti-yi-yo, git along little dogies,
For you know that Wyoming'll be your new home.
Whoopee ti-yi-yo, git along little dogies,
For you know that Wyoming'll be your new home.

It's early in spring that we round up the dogies.
We mark them and brand them and bob off their tails.
We round up the horses, load up the chuckwagon,
And then throw the dogies up on the long trail. \
Chorus

Your mother was raised away down in Texas,
Where the jimson weed and sandburs grow.
Now we'll fill you up on p____ly pear and cholla,
Till you are all ready for the trail to Idaho.
Chorus

Oh, you'll be soup for Uncle Sam's Injuns,
"It's beef, heap beef!" I hear them cry.
Git along, git along, git along little dogies;
You'll be beef steers by and by.

Chorus

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