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[Horse whinnies and then farts. Someone yells "Whoa!"]
I was hanging 'round town In a house of ill fame Laying up with a twister Of hustling dame
When a hop-headed pimp With his nose full of coke Beat me out of the girl And left me stone-broke
When a stranger walked in Said he, "Say, my lad Are you any good riding Horses that's bad?"
Said I, "You damn right That's one thing I can do I'm a second rate pimp But a good buckaroo.
"Bring on your bad horses I never saw one That could set to guessing Or bother me none."
Said he, "Guess again There's one horse that I own You might have heard of him The strawberry roan."
Well I guess we've all hear of that of that ball bearing stud He had the fessudie [?] And glanders and crud.
He's the worst fucking bronco That has ever been foaled He's never been road And he's twenty years old.O, that strawberry roan How many colts has he thrown? He's got gonorrhea and cankers and syph He strictured with clap But his cock is still stiff That renegade strawberry roan
Well, the upshot of it was That I found myself hired To snap out some colts That great stud had sired.
They were knot-head cayuse's Just like their Dad With most of them roans But all of them bad.
With their feet in my pockets Those bastards would fight Till my ass drug my tracks out Way before night
My balls in my boots And my mouth full of dung My ears were all scratch Where I got my spurs hung
Then the boss came in He said, "That's enough That strawberry roan's colts Are too God damned tough
"I'm damn sick and tired Of seeing you taking them falls Rope that wind-milling stud And we'll cut out his balls."
Well, the boss held his head While I hog-tied his legs I reached for my jack-knife And went for his eggs
When I opened his bag Why, he let out a moan And he squealed like a pig When I cut out that stone
But all I could locate Was one of his nuts The other was hidden Some place in his guts
So I rolled up my sleeve And swimming in blood I felt for the seed In the guts of that stud.
I thought that I found it I felt something pass But its only a turd On the way to his ass
Just then I heard one of them Blood curdling squalls And I looked and the roan Had the boss by the balls
Well, I stomped on his head It was no use He was just like a bulldog He wouldn't let loose
So I untied his legs And he got to his feet But the boss's voice changed And I knew he was beat.
[The sound of a fart. Someone yells "Whoa! You son of a bitch!" Horse makes "Awww, Horseshit.]
The above recording is from an anonymous non-labeled 78 record. Here are photos of the labels from this 78.
There are two other "Strawberry Roan" on 78s in my collection both of these are lacking the introductory and closing farting "You son of a bitch."
Here is the High Society label:
Here is the Party Platter label:
Here is a non-labeled version with typed text:
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