The Yanks took our corn, the Rebs took our cotton,
The bank took our land, and the tax got our home.
We hitched up the oxen and loaded the wagons, With the drove up poor yearlings we started
to roam.
Get along little yearlings, we're going to Texas,
Stay close to the wagons and follow me well.
In old Alabama we lost our first wagon, We thank the good Lord that we lost only
one.
In old Mississippi we fought the Jayhawkers, And in Louisiana we buried a son.
Get along little yearlings, we're going to Texas,
Don't stray far away or you can't hear the bells.
Get along little yearlings, we're going to Texas,
Stay close to the wagons and follow me well.
There's bears in the woods and there's wolves and there's engines,
There's quicksandy hoes and there's mountains of stone.
Last night a poor yearling strayed too far from camp,
And this morning we found just a bundle of bones.
Get along little yearlings, we're going to Texas,
Don't stray far away or you can't hear the bells.
Get along little yearlings, we're going to Texas,
Stay close to the wagons and follow me well.
Hooray and hurrah, give a big hallelujah, Our journey is ending, we're very near there.
Give thanks to the oxen and pray to Jehovah,
We'll soon be resting beneath the lone star.
Get along little yearlings, we're going to Texas,
Don't stray far away or you can't hear the bells.
Get along little yearlings, we're going to Texas,
Stay close to the wagons and follow me well.