Every time an old favorite was sung, it developed new twists and curves.
Ranger Winess would discover a heretofore unknown chord on his guitar:
"Get that one, boys. That's a wicked minor!" Then for the ensuing five
minutes, agonizing wails shattered the smoke screen while they were on
the trail of that elusive minor. I had one set rule regarding their
concerts--positively no lighted cigarettes were to be parked on my
piano!

One song Ranger Winess always rendered as a solo, because all the others
enjoyed hearing it too much to join in with him:

OLD ROANEY

I was hangin' 'round the town, and I didn't have a dime.
I was out of work and loafin' all the time.
When up stepped a man, and he said, "I suppose
You're a bronco-buster. I can tell by your clothes."

Well, I thought that I was, and I told him the same.
I asked him if he had any bad ones to tame?
"I have an old pony what knows how to buck;
At stacking up cowboys he has all the luck."'

I asked him what'd he pay if I was to stay
And ride his old pony around for a day.
"I'll give you ten dollars;" I said, "That's my chance,"
Throwed my saddle in the buckboard and headed for the ranch.

Got up next morning, and right after chuck
Went down to the corral to see that pony buck.