The 20th. Century Rustler Baxter Black
Oh; where have all of the rustlers gone
That worked in the pale moonlight
And gathered our cattle while everyone slept
Then split like a thief in the night?
Remington painted their dastardly deed
Preachers condemned them to hell
But twentieth century rustlers exist,
They work for MBPXL!
From Iowa Beef or Armour and Swift
They come to dicker and trade
The lone packer buyer, a scowl on his face,
Telling you why they won’t grade.
He’s trained in his craft like others before
Picking your pocket’s his vice
He’s learned all his tricks from the FAT BUYERS GUIDE
That keeps him from paying full price.
It lists all the reason to discount your steers;
They might be too fat or too thin,
Too many tags, need more days on the feed,
Too many horns in the pen,
Too many left handed pitchers this year,
Too many days in the week,
The phase of the moon, his barbers advice
And, of course, the Yellow Sheet.
You can beg him to come see your heifers
Plead with him on bended knee
Your call go unanswered, the phone never rings,
The balls in his court, don’t you see.
But sometimes the market is bullish
They’re lined up outside your door.
They promise you things will be different
They won’t even ask for a sort.
So put him a small load together
You pack’ til the semi is full.
A couple foot roots, a prolapsed old cow,
The four year old highlander bull.
The hardware’s, the brainers, the heifers in calf,
You ship all the cronics to town.
They never complain, just chew their cigar
Caus they know the wheel goes around.
There are those who insist they can’t be all bad
So I’ll close before I get hung.
Most packer buyers are living examples
Why mothers of some eat their young!
Oh; where have all of the rustlers gone
That worked in the pale moonlight
And gathered our cattle while everyone slept
Then split like a thief in the night?
Remington painted their dastardly deed
Preachers condemned them to hell
But twentieth century rustlers exist,
They work for MBPXL!
From Iowa Beef or Armour and Swift
They come to dicker and trade
The lone packer buyer, a scowl on his face,
Telling you why they won’t grade.
He’s trained in his craft like others before
Picking your pocket’s his vice
He’s learned all his tricks from the FAT BUYERS GUIDE
That keeps him from paying full price.
It lists all the reason to discount your steers;
They might be too fat or too thin,
Too many tags, need more days on the feed,
Too many horns in the pen,
Too many left handed pitchers this year,
Too many days in the week,
The phase of the moon, his barbers advice
And, of course, the Yellow Sheet.
You can beg him to come see your heifers
Plead with him on bended knee
Your call go unanswered, the phone never rings,
The balls in his court, don’t you see.
But sometimes the market is bullish
They’re lined up outside your door.
They promise you things will be different
They won’t even ask for a sort.
So put him a small load together
You pack’ til the semi is full.
A couple foot roots, a prolapsed old cow,
The four year old highlander bull.
The hardware’s, the brainers, the heifers in calf,
You ship all the cronics to town.
They never complain, just chew their cigar
Caus they know the wheel goes around.
There are those who insist they can’t be all bad
So I’ll close before I get hung.
Most packer buyers are living examples
Why mothers of some eat their young!