the high hawk knows where the rabbit goes and the buzzard marks the kill but few there be with eyes to see the tall men riding still we hark in vain on the speeding train for an echo of hoofbeat thunder and the yellow wheat is a winding sheet for cattle trails plowed under
hoofdust flies at the low moon's rise and the bullbat's lonesome whir is an echoed note from the longhorn throat, a steer as it were inch by inch, time draws the cinch, till the saddles creak no more and they the lords of the cattle hordes shall tally a final score
chorus: oh the tall men riding under the phantom moon oh the tall men riding hoofbeats like hammers of doom
this is the song that the night birds sing as the phantom herds trail by horn by horn where the long plains throw flat miles to the sky and this is the song that the night birds wail where the Texas plains lie wide over the dust of a ghostly trail where the phantom tall men rideTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
