This text comes from Songs of the Cowboys, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Daddy come from Brownsville,
En Maw from San Antone;
We come here in a wagon
That ud rock en squeak en groan;
We brought our stock en horses;
The Boys come on afore;
En Dad was playin’ all the way
“Old Turkey in the Straw”!
There’s me en Sister Annie,
En Tom, en Si, en Budd;
We all was raised with cattle,
So I guess it’s in our blood;
En I shore love the dances —
Folks say I take after Maw —
When Dad takes down his fiddle
En plays “Turkey in the Straw”!
We ain’t jest much on stylish,
But we got a good Home Ranch,
En the little old horse-pasture
Runs clear down to the branch.
En we’re all plumb contented
Since Dad put hinges on the door,
En with his old brown fiddle
Plays “Turkey in the Straw”!
I got er pair er shop-made boots
That Dad had made fer me,
Er pair er silver-mounted spurs
Es pretty es can be;
We ride ter all the dances,
En when I get on the floor,
I’m sure to hear Dad playin’
“Old Turkey in the Straw”!
I’ve got a young cow-puncher roped,
I’ve got ’im on my string,
En everything is lovely,
We’ll be married in the spring;
Es we ain’t much on religion,
We’ll be married by the Law,
En I kin hear Dad playin’
“Old Turkey in the Straw”!