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​Rusty Jiggs And Sandy Sam

This song is by Ramblin' Jack Elliott and appears on the album Ramblin' Jack Elliott In London (1959) and on the compilation album The Lost Topic Tapes: Cowes Harbour 1957 (2004).

It was way high up in the Sierry Petes
Where the yellow pines grow tall
Rusty Jiggs And Sandy Sam
Had a round-up camp last fall

They had their pony's and their running irons
And maybe a dog or two
And they 'lowed they'd brand all the loppy calves
That came within their view

Well many a loppier dogie
That didn't hush up by day
Had his long ears whittled and his old hide scorched
In a most artistic way

Then says Rusty Jiggs to Sandy Sam
As he throwed his seago down
"I'm tired of cow biography
And I figures I'll go to town"

They saddles up, and they hits them a lope
For it weren't no side of a ride
And them was the days when an old cow punch
Could oil up his old insides

They starts her out at the Kentucky Bar
At the head of the Whisky Row
And they ends her up at the Depot House
Some forty drinks below

Then they winds her up and turns her around
And goes her the other way
And to tell you the Lord-forsaken truth
Them boys got drunk that day

Well, as they was a headin' back to camp
And packin' a mighty good load
Who should they meet but the Devil himself
Come prancin' down the road?

Now the Devil he said, "You cowboy skunks
You better go hunt your hole
'Cause I've come up from the Hell's rim rocks
To gather in your souls"

Says Rusty Jiggs to the Devil
"Though I know we're tight
No Devil ever took an old cow punch
Without one kind of a fight"

So he builds him a hole in his old throw rope
And he throw'd it straight and true
He caught the devil right around the horns
He takes his dallies too

Now Sandy Sam was a reata man
With his good line coiled up neat
But he shakes her out and he builds him a loop
And he caught the Devil's hind feet

They threw him down on the desert ground
While the irons was-a getting hot
They cropped and swallow-forked his ears
And branded him up a lot

And they pruned him up with a dehorning saw
And knotted his tail for a joke
Rode off and left him bellowing there
Necked up to a lilac-jack oak

Now, if you're ever up in the Sierry Petes
And you hear a hell of a wail
You'll know it ain't nothin' but the Devil himself
Raisin' hell about the knots in his tail

Written by:

Traditional