| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Whoa, Zebe, Whoa | | By Edwin Ford Piper |
| | | SADDLE me up the Zebra Dun— | |
| Whoa, Zebe, whoa! | |
| Double-cinch the son of a gun— | |
| Whoa, till I bridle you, whoa! | |
| Foot in the stirrup, straddle him quick— | 5 |
| Pitch and squeal and buck and kick— | |
| Take your gait or the spurs will prick, | |
| Lope along, you Zebra Dun. | |
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| The boys are off for town tonight— | |
| It’s a-riding Zebra Dun! | 10 |
| Playing poker and a-getting tight— | |
| Sift along, O Zebra Dun! | |
| Bunch of girls at Brown’s Hotel | |
| Knows the steps, and dances well— | |
| Rattlesnake Pete and his fiddle— | 15 |
| Lope along, O Zebra Dun! | |
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| Lights of the town are a-shining clear— | |
| Run, you Zebra Dun! | |
| Last four weeks seems like a year— | |
| Run, Zebe, run! | 20 |
| Yip, yip, yi-yi, yi-yi! | |
| Run, you old stiff-kneed grasshopper, | |
| You spiral-spined jackrabbit, you! | |
| A-ho, whoopee! | |
| Brown’s Hotel we’re bound to see, | 25 |
| Swing them girls at the dance party, | |
| One-and-twenty on a moonlight spree— | |
| A-ho, whoopee! | |
| Whoa, Zebe, whoa! | |
| Whoa, till I hitch you, whoa! | 30 | | | |
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