Traditional, from Carl Sandberg, John Renbourn, et al.

'Twas in the town of Jacksboro in early sixty-three.
A man by the name of "Krego" come steppin' up to me,
Saying "How'd ya do, young feller," and, "how'd ya like to go
And spend your summer pleasant on the Range of the Buffalo?"

"Well, it's me bein' out of employment," to this Krego I did say.
"So, whether or not I go with you depends upon your pay.
If you pay good wages, transportation to and fro,
Most likely, Sir, I'll go with you to the Range of the Buffalo."

"Well, yes I pay good wages and transportation, too,
If you're agreed to work for me until the summer's through.
But, if you get dissatisfied and head back for Jacksboro,
Most likely, Sir, you'll starve to death on the Range of the Buffalo."

Now, with all his flatterin' talkin', he'd signed up quite a team:
With navy, six, and needle gun, seven able-bodied men.
Our way it was a pleasant one as we left out from Jacksboro,
Until we crossed Pease River, boys, on the Range of the Buffalo.

So it's now we've crossed Pease River, and our troubles have begun.
The first damned tail I went to rip, Christ how I cut my thumb!
While skinning them damned old stinkers, our lives they weren't no show,
'Cause the Indians waited to picked us off on the Range of the Buffalo.

He fed us on such sorry chuck I wished myself most dead.
It was old jerky beef, croton coffee and sour bread.
Pease River's as salty as Hellfire; that water I could never go.
I'll tell you there's no worse Hell on earth than the Range of the Buffalo.

Our meat it was buffalo hump, and iron wedge was our bread.
And, all we had to sleep on was buffalo robes for bed.
The fleas and the graybacks worked on us; oh boys, they were not slow.
Oh God, I wish I'd never come to the Range of the Buffalo.

Our hearts was cased in buffalo hock, and our souls was cased in steel.
And, the hardships of that summer did nearly make me reel.
While skinning them damned old stinkers, our lives they weren't no show,
'Cause the outlaws waited to picked us off on the Range of the Buffalo.

Well, the season bein' near over, old Krego he did say,
"You boys have been extravagant, and I owe you no more pay."
We begged him, and we pleaded, but still it was no go.
So, we left that drover's bones to bleach on the Range of the Buffalo.

So, it's now we've crossed Pease River, and homeward we are bound.
No more in that Hellfired country shall ever we be found.
Go home to our wives and our sweethearts, tell others not to go.
For, God's forsaken the Buffalo Range and the damned old buffalo.