As I was out riding one morning for pleasure,
I spied a young cowboy a-riding along.
His hat was throwed back and his spurs were a-jingling,
And as he was riding he was singing this song.

Whoopee, ti-yi-yo, git along, little dogies;
It’s your misfortune, ain’t none of my own.
Whoopee, ti-yi-yo, git along, little dogies,
You know that Wyoming will be your new home.

When spring comes along we round up the dogies,
We stick on their brands and we bob off their tails,
Pick out the strays, then the herd is inspected,
And the very next day we go out on the trail.

Whoopee, ti-yi-yo, git along, little dogies;
It’s your misfortune, ain’t none of my own.
Whoopee, ti-yi-yo, git along, little dogies,
You know that Wyoming will be your new home.

We ride on the prairies across the wide rivers
And on through the flats where there’s never a town.
Our horses are weary, we’re tired and we’re hungry;
Lay still, little dogies, stop roamin' around.

Whoopee, ti-yi-yo, git along, little dogies;
It’s your misfortune, ain’t none of my own.
Whoopee, ti-yi-yo, git along, little dogies,
You know that Wyoming will be your new home.

Night is a-comin' and the dogies are strayin'.
They’re farther from home than they’ve been before.
Come on, little dogies, it’s time to be rollin'.
When we get to Wyoming, we’ll roll no more.

Whoopee, ti-yi-yo, git along, little dogies;
It’s your misfortune, ain’t none of my own.
Whoopee, ti-yi-yo, git along, little dogies,
You know that Wyoming will be your new home.