He always wore his hat,
Low down over his eyes,
And you felt an anger in his presence,
But it was a bit too subtle to describe.
He wasn't a slinger;
No, nothing flashy quite like that,
But he carried a Long Colt 45,
And he kept a snub nose up under his hat.
They say he traveled alone,
But nobody knew from where to where,
Whether it was east or west, north or south,
He never seemed to care.
He'd sign on to drive the herds,
Northward and the work was hard,
But it kept him well out of the cities,
Riding from Dallas to the Denver stockyards.
There once was talk of a woman,
A Mexican girl from Pueblo,
But rumor had it that he wasn't the loving kind,
And he always seemed happier when he was alone.
Yes, this cowboy liked to keep to himself,
And he didn't care much for idle talk,
And for those who wouldn't abide his space,
They had better be ready to walk the walk.
And he was just another one of God's creations,
A cowboy on the open road,
He was looking for a herd to drive,
Or a beach down in Mexico.
There aren’t too many like him,
Left out on the range today,
And our country’s a little weaker for it,
With all of our city boys on display.
The grit of the pioneer is gone today,
And so much pride has also been lost with it,
If we could only get back to the simpler times,
We just might rekindle our spirit.