We wuz sittin’ ’round the ev’nin’ fire

and tellin’ tales the way we do,

with each tale taller than the last,

which every teller swore wuz true.

 

When up piped old man Callaghan

who said he had a brand new tale

that he picked up one starless night

along the dusty Chisholm Trail.

 

“I met a fella dressed so neat

I thought he wuz a preacher man,

an’ Colin Stewart wuz his name,

from some respected Scottish clan.

 

Waal, this here gent wuz long ’n’ lean,

spoke in an eddycated way.

He looked around and up and down

before he said whut he would say.

 

He wandered down into our camp

and made hisself feel right at home.

He drank his coffee black as night

and loosed his horse to graze and roam.

 

An’ jes’ like here we settled down

an’ told a cowboy tale or two

but Stewart surely topped us all

with his strange tale he told the crew.

​

Now, did you fellas ever see

or hear about a Jackalope?

We nary said a blessed thing 

till Shorty Smith said “Never… nope!”

​

“​Waal, Stewart nodded ’cuz he knew

no one had heard of sech a thing -

especi’lly waddys on the trail

who hadn’t seen a town since spring.

​

He sipped his brew and shifted some,

took off his boots and slapped his hat

then started up his tale again

and never moved from where he sat.

​

Jack looks jes’ like a cotton-tail

with deer horns sittin’ on his head,

and roars like some ol’ mountain cat

when he’s out lookin’ to be fed.

​

 The Jackalope is mighty mean,

and shows up ev’ry Easter Day

to steal the painted Easter eggs

folks hide for youngsters while they play.

 

And chickens in the hen-house know

when Jackalope’s out on a quest,

to cluck and squawk when he sneaks in

to steal the eggs from ev’ry nest.

 

The nighthawk swears he’s seen him ’round

to play his evil mischief game,

and nip remuda horses legs

until they’re mighty sore and lame.

 

Jack even ran a race one day

against the famous Pecos Bill,

and ran it almost neck-and-neck

till Pecos passed him on a hill.

 

But worst of all you’ll ever hear

is singing long into the night.

He imitates the human voice

and yodels like a waddy might.

 

They say he even totes a gun

worn low jes’ like a gunman would.

It’s kinda small but packs a punch

and he can drill you pretty good.

 

​But catchin’ him is not too hard

’cuz Jackalope is fond of rye.

Jes’ pour a shot out on some hay

and soon he’ll come sashayin’ by.

 

Yuh waits until he’s feelin’ good

and hums an old familiar tune,

then make yer move while he’s relaxed

beneath the waning summer moon.

 

Jes’ grab him by those on’ry horns

and swing him high and low

until he yells both long and loud

'Oh, please dear sir just let me go’

 

But don’t you dare to turn him loose

or else you’ll surely find you’re cursed!

Jes’ pull yer gun and blast away

or else he’s bound to get you first!”