Ian Tyson Lyrics

Ian Tyson - Sierra Peaks Lyrics

Sierra Peaks Lyrics by Ian Tyson from Old Corrals And Sagebrush & Other Cowboy Culture Classics Album has 1104 views.
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Ian Tyson Sierra Peaks Lyrics

Send “Sierra Peaks” Ringtone to your Cell
Way high up in the Sierry Peaks
Where the yellow-jack pines grow tall,
Buster Jiggs and Sagebrush Sam
Had a rodear camp last fall.

Their takin' their horses and their running irons
Maybe a dog or two,
And allowed thy'd brand every long-eared calf
That came within their view.

And any old dogie that flapped long ears
And didn't bush up by day,
Got his long ears whittled and his old hide sizzled
In a most artistic way.

Now one fine day old Buster Jiggs,
Just throwed his reata down,
Says "I'm tired of cowboyograph*
Boys, allows I'm a goin' into town."

So they saddled up, and they hits 'em a lope
For it weren't no Saturday ride,
But them was the days that a good buckaroo
Could oil up his insides.

And they started in at Kentucky Bar,
At the head of Whisky Row,
And they wound her up at the Depot House
Some forty drinks below.

Then they sets 'er up and they turns 'er around
And they goes 'er the other way,
I'll tell you the God-forsaken truth
Them boys got drunk that day.

As they was aridin' back to camp
They were apackin' a pretty good load,
And who should they meet but the Devil himself
Come prancin' down the road.

He says, "Here you ornery cowboy skunks
You better go hunt for your holes,
For I'm the devil from Hell's rim rock
Come to gather in your souls.

Ian Tyson Sierra Peaks found on http://batlyrics.net/sierra_peaks-lyrics-ian_tyson.html

Says Buster Jiggs, "The Devil be damned,
We boys is kinda tight;
But you ain't gonna gather no cowboys souls
Without one helluva fight."

So he punched a hole in his old seago
And he throws her strait and true
Well he lapped it on to the Devil's horns
He's a-takin' his dallies true.

Now Buster Jiggs was a reata man
With his gut-line coiled up neat;
But he shakes her out and he builds 'im a loop
Caught the Devils hind feet.

Well they stretched him out and they tailed him down
While the running-irons was a getting hot,
They cropped and they swaller-forked his ears
And they branded him up a lot.

Well they trimmed him up with a dehornin' saw
Knotted in his tail for a joke,
And they rode away and left him there
Tied up to a blackjack oak.

So if you're ever up in the Sierry Peaks
You hear one hell of a wail,
You know it's the Devil just a bellerin' around
About the knots in his tail.

If you're ever up in the Sierry Peaks
You hear one hell of a wail,
You know it's the Devil just a bellerin' around
About the knots in his tail.

*Originally cow-pyrography

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