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Lessons of the Far West Early. Cattle lined up Good and straight (The maddest bulls push forward, Of course.) A bell and a yell Let the rigid stampede Begin. 30 headstrong head And you with one prod To get the mooing Cud chewing Mass To eat enough To become ground round. Put 'em out Into pasture. Let 'em feel watched In the open field Let 'em jump Your meager fence. Go stray. Find a cranny in a canyon Where, maybe, a mad bull Can make them his own personal Pamplona Or maybe they can grow back the horns You keep cutting off Or, maybe, lose their bells and wander forever But you gotta watch the rest of the herd Make sure they graze Graze Graze Graze The ones who feed them flowers They're crazy, you know? Grass and hay's the stuff. You take what you got left And now that you taught 'em (Inside fences) How to roam the infinite desert You lock 'em down in steel stalls And you see who ate the most (Don't worry bout digestion That takes care of itself.) The time has come. The brands burn your hands But it's gotta be done A B C D F The ones who don't brand 'em Drive you crazy How do you know Who ate the most two years ago? Huh? The ones who raise the cattle That milk cream out of themselves What's the point? Your 30 head Are meat to feed Tommorow's cowboys.
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