William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1920.

Whoa, Zebe, Whoa

SADDLE me up the Zebra Dun—

Whoa, Zebe, whoa!

Double-cinch the son of a gun—

Whoa, till I bridle you, whoa!

Foot in the stirrup, straddle him quick—

Pitch and squeal and buck and kick—

Take your gait or the spurs will prick,

Lope along, you Zebra Dun.

The boys are off for town tonight—

It’s a-riding, Zebra Dun!

Playing poker and a-getting tight—

Sift along, O Zebra Dun!

Bunch of girls at Brown’s Hotel

Knows the steps, and dances well—

Rattlesnake Pete and his fiddle—

Lope along, O Zebra Dun!

Lights of the town are a-shining clear—

Run, you Zebra Dun!

Last four weeks seems like a year—

Run, Zebe, run!

Yip, yip, yi-yi, yi-yi!

Run, you old stiff-kneed grasshopper,

You spiral-spined jackrabbit, you!

A-ho, whoopee!

Brown’s Hotel we’re bound to see,

Swing them girls at the dance party,

One-and-twenty on a moonlight spree—

A-ho, whoopee!

Whoa, Zebe, whoa!

Whoa, till I hitch you, whoa!

Poetry, A Magazine of Verse