Me and old Jethro were ridin’ the line

Checkin’ the fences and such

The weather was hot but the horses were fine

And the cattle were down in the gultch

I looked at old Jethro, he never said much

He sat tall and straight as a pine

His face was tanned the color of snuff

And his clothes were covered with grime

Like many a cowpoke he was practically mute

As silent and still as a deer

But when he spoke he told you the truth

Usually something you needed to hear

The day was a scorcher, as I was sayin’,

I was dreamin’ about a cold drink

Maybe a swim I was hopin’ and prayin’

I needed to wash off my stink

We were guiding our horses down toward the creek

When Jethro began clearing his throat

I stopped in my tracks when he started to speak

Then he spat out a lugi and croaked,

“You oughten go down to the crick in this heat

Them rocks are a crawlin’ with snakes.”

Then he turned his old mare and made his retreat

And left me to make my mistakes

I wasn’t afraid of a rattler or two

The water looked rippling and cool

So I did what I thought I needed to do

And guided my horse to the pool