The Cockfight
Composer(s): F. Blalock - M. Kelton
Performer(s): Ian Campbell Folk Group



Fowler's the name, Stew Fowler!
I'm a rooster
Fightin's my racket
Cock fightin'

I came all the way from Texas across the burnin' sand
To wet my feathers in the Rio Grande
I've hobbled for miles through Mexico
I've come to kill a big rooster called Rojo
(Doin' it all for chicken feed)

For a country red, Rojo's wild
His fame is spread for many a mile
The hens all cackle when Rojo's around
But Stew Fowler's here to put Big Red down
(I'll give them chickens somethin' to cackle about!)

It's mid afternoon as I stand in the street
Of this Spanish town called Los Leghorn's Retreat
At the end of the row a cantina stands
(Ain't nothin' but a chicken coop)
It's plainly the haunt of an outlaw band

The sign in the front reads
La Grande de Nesto
And it's there I know
I'll find my foe, the fabled Rojo

I can hear fowl language
Comin' out of that honky tonk
I strut down the street, the cock of the walk
I crow for Big Red to come out and talk

Through the swingin' doors
Of the Grande de Nesto
His head erect
And his tail feathers low, steps Rojo!
(I can tell he's a really bad egg)

His spurs are long and his eyes are green
An uglier cock I've never seen
He learned to be tough while he's in the pen
But I know his weakness.....hens and gin

Then out of that honky tonk and up to Rojo's side
Steps the prettiest little dance hall cackler in the West
Bluesie Nuster, the southern fried feather duster
(Gosh she's pretty 
I'd like to run my hands through that red comb of hers)

Rojo comes at me in a long lanky run
Some people gather round to watch the fun
(You know, people are the strangest chickens)
Bird to bird and beak to beak
I face Rojo, and my heart gets weak
I crow and strut and I jump about
And then I take off and I run
'Cause I done chickened out!