Just barely eighteen when the Great War was through Ridin' and fighin' was all that I knew Hard life and death was all that I seen Ridin' hell bend for leather in search of a dream I rode drag on a heard up the old Chisum trail Straight through Oklahoma to Dodge City's jail My hard dusty wages played out way too soon On whisky and Keno at the Long Branch Saloon All I have left is my stories to tell Heavens too far and I'm plumb scared of hell Nobody wants this pain and misery But there still are some who think they could be a cowboy like me
I spent one lonely winter in an old line shack With beans in my belly rain on my back A ration of coffee and a mountain of snow With cattle to attend to at forty below And it's back for the round up in April or May You round up the calf's boys and you cut out the strays And you might touch a woman before the long summer ends Then its back to the line shack and do it all again And all I have left...
I've given some bad guys a hard way to go I busted my bones in them old time rodeos I might have stretched truth Lord but I've never lied Can't you tell I'm a cowboy by the scars on my side But I rode with Cole Younger and New Jesse James Me and old Wyatt use to ride on the range And men all said sir to my Colt 45 And I was with Hitchcock the night that he died All I have left...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
