Maybe if we all sing this together in unison, he will appear!!
Streets of Laundry (Cowboy's Wring-out)
As I walked out on the streets of Laundry,
As I walked out in Laredo one day,
I spied a young cowboy all wrapped in white linen
Wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay.
"Oh, beat the stick slowly and wring me out lowly,
Tumble me dry as you carry me along,
Take me to the clothesline and clip the pins o'er me
For I'm a young warshrag and I know I've done wrong."
"I see by your dustiness that you are a cowboy"
These words he did say as I boldly stepped by,
"Come take me up and use me to wash with,
Everything you can reach for I’m eager to try."
"Oh sixteen gamblers have handled this washrag,
And sixteen cowboys have called me their own,
Take me to the clothesline and clip the pins o'er me
For I'm a young warshrag and I know I've done wrong."
"My friends and relations, they live in the Nation,
They know not where their warshrag has gone,
He first came to Texas and hired to a ranchman
Oh, I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."
"Go write a letter to my gray-tinged mother,
And carry the same to my sister so dear,
But not a word of this shall you mention
When a crowd gathers round the laundry room here."
"Oh, beat the stick slowly and wring me out lowly,
Tumble me dry as you carry me along,
We all love our warshrags so fresh and sweet-smelling,
We all love our warshrags although they've done wrong."
"Go gather around you a crowd of young warshrags,
And tell them the story of this, my sad fate;
Tell one and the other before they go further
To stop their wild warshing before 'tis too late."
"Oh muffle your drums, then play your fifes merrily
Play the Dead March as you go along
And fire your guns right over my coffin,
There goes an unfortunate rag to his home."
"It was once in the warshpail I used to go splashing
Once in the warshpail I used to go gay,
First to the armpits and then to the North Pole
or Equator, if you were sailing that way."
"Get six jolly cowboys to make lots of suds,
Know that never my job I would quit,
Put bunches of roses all over my coffin,
Splash me around till the fire does spit."
"Then wring my cloth slowly, and tumble dry lowly,
And give a wild ding when I finally am dry,
Take me to the clothesline and hang me up tightly
For I'm a young warshrag and I know I've done wrong."
"Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water
To cool my parched lips," the cowboy said;
Before I turned, the spirit had left him
And gone to its Giver --- the cowboy was dead.
We beat the stick slowly and wrung him out lowly,
We tumbled him dry as we sang him this song,
For we all loved our warshrag, so bright, clean and fluffy,
We all loved our warshrag although he'd done wrong."
