Back in the day near Cortez, Colorado
When beef was the name of the game
They imported some critters to make a few bucks
From just South of the Border they came
They were tougher than granite and I don’t mean the meat
They were fast as a lightning bolt too
Had some stripes down their backs and that’s all you would see
As they disappeared in front of you
Up round Dolores the steers made their break
And split for the wide open peaks
They got a few back but it sure wasn’t easy
They chased em around for some weeks
Now one tough ole cowboy, we’ll just call him Jack
Was determined to rope him a steer
The called em Chipmunks for the way that they looked
And the way that they could disappear
Ole Jack said the steer wasn’t born on this earth
That he couldn’t rope tie and brand
He’d make real short work of them danged Chipmunk Steers
He was (in his mind) the Top Hand
As the other men laughed, Jack rode on away
By himself with his cow pony Bill
And after a while he tracked him one down
On the side of a very steep hill
It just stood there and looked at ole Jack for a bit
As if saying, “Come on, do yore best”
So Jack spurred Bill on with a gleam in his eye
For that steer, it was only a jest
Just as jack threw his loop, the steer jumped aside
Quick as a snake from his lair
The loop missed the steer and wrapped firm round a stump
As the critter jumped up in the air
Jack had swore he was roped and he got a good dally
Then the steer came down on his line
The weight pulled Bill sideways, he started to slip
And slide down the rocky incline
But the stump held them fast just as Bill lost his footing
And slammed down hard on Jack’s foot
Jack hollered so loud and cussed such a streak
That the clear mountain air turned to soot
As he struggled to untangle himself from the mess
A shadow fell over the pair
Both Jack and Bill looked up and saw with a shock
That dang chipmunk steer in mid-air
He cleared cowpoke and pony by maybe 8 feet
A jump for the steer record book
Landing light on his hooves he spun around quick
Just to give Jack and Bill one more look
Then he bounded away just like his namesake
Lost in that 4 Corners brush
Dodging round pine trees and cedars alike
And then disappeared with a rush
Long after dark Ole Jack rode into camp
Silent and mad from the day
Only had one spur left, and his hat was tore up
And he had quite a limp so they say
He left the next day, knowing he’d met his match
Now nobody called him yellow
But it’s said that he move on to western Nebraska
Where the steers were a little more mellow
