Sitting round the camp fire
on a cold damp winter night.
Listening to the songs
about a cowboys plight.
The guitar keeping harmony
to the melody of his voice.
The Cowboy bard is singing
about his dog named Royce.
The cattle keep on grazing
under stars and moon so bright.
A lonely cowboy gazing upward
as the Lords Prayer he does recite.
As the fire starts to dwindle
and the cowboy starts to dream.
He dreams about the day
he lives out his perfect scheme.
The coyote howls in the distance
as the wind begins to blow.
For life is very lonely
way up here on the high plateau.
With the sun to bake your head
and the wind to cut your face.
A cowboy is an occupation
thay will never bring disgrace.
That lifestyle may be gone now
and it will never be the same.
Land that stretches forever
like the cowboys claim to fame. |
