"Along about five o'clock in the afternoon, when we were so sore and exhausted we wanted to drop in our tracks, we kept ourselves going with nothing but pride and stubbornness and will power. We taunted each other. We teased. We invented and bellowed lunatic songs at the top of our lungs. I offer the following as an example of our doggerel. This verse, one of many which spring from our fogged brains, celebrated the villain for whom we were working, ranch owner and 'trail boss' Lawrence Ellzey:
The trail boss's orders inspire us with fear. He don't pay no wages but he furnishes beer. Two six-packs a month and a kick in the rear, Yippie-ti-yi-yo, what am I doin' here?"