Songs 61 to 80

sung by Marty Robbins

sung by Frankie Laine

Dust Eatin' Cowboys

by Dave Gordon

Hotmud Family Lyrics –

I laid in some wages and went on a spree

But whiskey and women got the better of me

Boys, you might as well shoot for the man in the moon

As to shoot for the girls at the Red Dog Saloon

They're too hot to handle and too cold to touch

And their two dollar kiss is a little too much

Handsome young dandies are always preferred

To the dust eatin' cowboys at the rear of the herd

There's lots of them hungry old rounders around

Who'd give a month's pay for a weekend in town

For an armful of gingham and a glass full of foam

Now they're hustlin' for train fare to take them back home

But they sold off the prairie for a fist full of change

Now there's barbed wire fences all over the range

Before they did business, they should have conferred

With the dust eatin' cowboys at the rear of the herd

[Instrumental]

Some folks think everyone wants to do right

But some people out there ain't tryin' tonight

I'd give my right arm and the other one too

If I could do better, like I never do

And I can't help recallin' the chapel bell chimes

That Peter himself denied Jesus three times

If you talk to heaven, put in a good word

For the dust eatin' cowboys at the rear of the herd

For the dust eatin' cowboys at the rear of the herd.

#62

sung by The Hotmud Family

sung by KG and the Ranger

Circa 1970

2010

Cowpoke

by Stan Jones

Johnny Western lyrics –

[Yodeling & Guitar]

I'm lonesome but happy, rich but I'm broke

And the good Lord knows the reason I'm just a cowpoke

From Cheyenne to Douglas, all the ranges I know

Cause I drift with the wind, no one cares where I go

[Yodeling]

Well it's north in the spring if there ain't a big drouth

And as soon as it frosts I'll be headin' back south

But I ain't got a worry, 'cause I ain't got time

I'm too busy a-livin' this free life of mine

[Yodeling]

Some evenin' in the springtime a filly I'll find

And I might spend all summer with her on my mind

But I'll never be branded and never be broke

I'm a carefree range ridin', driftin' cowpoke.

[Yodeling]

#63

sung by Johnny Western

sung by Hank Williams, Jr.

Johnny Western

Old Timer

by Waylon Jennings

Waylon Jennings lyrics –

I grew up in Wyoming

In and around Jackson's Hole

In the shadow of the Tetons

Where summers are hot

And winters unbearably cold

But the spring and the fall

Are always as good as it gets

For over 70 years now

I've watched the sun rise and set

I've been a cowboy

Workin' the roundups in spring

I've lived in the mountains

Hunted the grizzly

Trapping the rivers and streams

Always the loner

I've treasured my freedom the most

And though I never married

As a young man I might have come close

From somewhere back East

She came to the valley

With a man who did her no good

He was fast with the ladies

A tin horn gambler

And a cheat whenever he could

She had no friends or family

And most of the time he was gone

He died in a card game

And she found herself all alone

Alone and afraid and left unprotected

'Cause he was all that she had

Maybe I should have

But I never told her

So she never knew he was bad

But I'll always remember

Standing and watching her cry

There was no one to help her

But I was determined to try

I mended her fences and

Fixed up her cabin

Had everything lookin' good

I laid by her food

And wood for the winter

Helpin' wherever I could

The more I was around her

The more I wanted to be

There was something about her

That brought out a good side of me

I went into town, bought a new outfit

I got me a haircut and shave

I'd trek through the snow

For no good reason

Just to go by her cabin each day

I don't know about love

But I was quite taken in by it all

Till her brother came in the spring

And he took her back to St. Paul.

I don't go down to Jackson

Ain't nothing there but motels and bars

Too damn many tourists

No place to hide

They'll find you wherever you are

They like to call me old timer

I am gettin' older I guess

But I don't like the changes

'Cause I've seen it all at its best

When my life is over

I don't want to be left in town

But up in the mountains

There is a place

I marked off my own piece of ground

High in the Tetons

Above and away from it all

From the top of old Grand

I'll bet on a clear day you can see

All the way to St. Paul.

#64

sung by Waylon Jennings

Jackson Hole, Wyoming

Red Headed Stranger

by Edith Lindeman & Carl Stutz

Willie Nelson lyrics –

The red-headed stranger from Blue Rock Montana

Rode into town one day

And under his knees was a ragin' black stallion

Walkin' behind was a bay

The red-headed stranger had eyes like the thunder

His lips they were sad and tight

His little lost love lay asleep on the hillside

And his heart was heavy as night.

Don't cross him don't boss him

He's wild in his sorrow

He's ridin' an' hidin' his pain

Don't fight him don't spite him

Wait till tomorrow

Maybe he'll ride on again.

A yellow-haired lady leaned out of her window

And watched as he passed her way

She drew back in fear at the sight of the stallion

But cast greedy eyes on the bay

But how could she know that this dancin' bay pony

Meant more to him than life

For this was the horse that his little lost darlin'

Had ridden when she was his wife.

Don't cross him don't boss him

He's wild in his sorrow

He's ridin' an' hidin' his pain

Don't fight him don't spite him

Wait till tomorrow

Maybe he'll ride on again.

The yellow-haired lady came down to the tavern

And looked up the stranger there

He bought her a drink and gave her some money

He just didn't seem to care

She followed him out as he saddled his stallion

An' laughed as she grabbed at the bay

He shot her so quick they had no time to warn her

She never heard anyone say...

"Don't cross him, don't boss him.

"He's wild in his sorrow:

"He's ridin' an' hidin' his pain.

"Don't fight him, don't spite him;

"Wait till tomorrow,

"Maybe he'll ride on again."

The yellow-haired lady was buried at sunset

Stranger went free of course.

For you can't hang a man for killin' a woman

Who's tryin' to steal your horse.

This is the tale of the red headed stranger

And if he should pass your way

Stay out of the path of the ragin' black stallion

And don't lay a hand on the bay.

Don't cross him don't boss him

He's wild in his sorrow

He's ridin' an' hidin' his pain

Don't fight him don't spite him

Just wait till tomorrow

Maybe he'll ride on again.

#65

sung by Willie Nelson

sung by Chris LeDoux

The Last Wild White Buffalo

by Mike Blakely

Mike Blakely Lyrics –

I fled that Mason-Dixon feud with everything

that I'd accrued and wandered

I'd been told of Denver gold and my soul I sold

for passage way out yonder

Ah, but I was never meant for pannin' dust and threw

my trust into a band of jolly hunters

bound for buffalo or bust

We killed the meat to feed the hungry miners

for the wages that we'd squander.

I learned to hold a skinnin' knife just like I'd held one

my whole life and then some

And I'll admit I smelled a bit like blood and guts

and sweat each time I skinned one

But then the market changed from meat to hides and

we went down to Texas where the wild Comanches and

the Kiowa abide. And I saved my bucks and bought a

Sharps Big Fifty and I hired two men to skin some.

Oh now the rumble of the buffalo is bound to go to make

way for the longhorn the field corn and the town born

For many years I've laid 'em low and braved the bow

and arrow of the Indian

Finally here I am —

Holdin' my Sharps Big Fifty tight, I see him in my sights,

I've got him dead to rights, I've dreamed of this at night,

He's the last livin' free runnin' wild white buffalo.

And it was northward to the Northern Herd some

hunters up here spread the word of fortune

We fought the Blackfeet and the Sioux and of buffalo

we slew more than our portion

Then just this mornin' I awoke before the dawn and

rowed my boat and saddled up old Three Socks rode

and staked him in the rimrocks, and I crawled out

on the ledge to find the rarest of the breed, the pure white bison.

Yeah, I had heard the stories of the few who won

the glories when they shot one

That albino hide's so rare it's only fair you'd pay

a thousand if you bought one

That white hide tanned by Indian's hand is sacred

but to white men it's a trophy, nothin' more,

and I can feel my legend soar, for of fame and riches

I have none, but I believe it's high time that I got some.

Oh now the rumble of the buffalo is bound to go to make

way for the longhorn the field corn and the town born

For many years I've laid 'em low and braved the bow

and arrow of the Indian

Finally here I am —

Holdin' my Sharps Big Fifty tight, I see him in my sights,

I've got him dead to rights, I've dreamed of this at night,

He's the last livin' free runnin' wild white buffalo.

Now the hair is standin' on my neck and I feel as if

some reckoning has found me.

Is that white bull really real or just the ghost of evil deals

come back to hound me?

For I have fought the red men and deprived them of the

meat I let spoil now I hear voices as my trigger finger

coils, and I hesitate to fire 'cause I feel the Indian spirits

all around me.

So I ease up on the trigger and I wait for someone bigger

to decide.

And I hear the Great Creator whisper

"Wait before you kill him just for pride."

So I wait. Then I see the Sioux come chargin' down the hill

to kill that sacred buffalo with arrow straight and

true, and I know now if I had fired it would have been

their knives skinnin' me of my own white hide.

Oh now the rumble of the buffalo is bound to go to

make way for the longhorns field corn the town born.

For many years I've laid 'em low and braved the bow

and arrow of the Indians

Finally here I am —

Holdin' my Sharps Big Fifty tight, I saw him in my sights,

I had him dead to rights, I've dreamed of it at night,

He was the last livin' free runnin' wild white buffalo.

So I leave the Indians sayin' prayers and thanks to

stayin' mighty low I'm hidin'

I slip back up the rimrock, cinch up old Three Socks

and steady now I'm ridin'

And I know down in my heart now all my huntin' days

are past, I may have killed more than my share, but

I will not kill the last, and I beg the Lord's sweet mercy

for the breath of life still in my lungs abidin'.

As I ride off on my sorrel it ain't hard to find the moral

of my story —

Yeah a man who takes what's sacred from another

ain't no brother bound for glory

And a man who kills for thrill or just for money in the till

had better heed the Spirit voices on his downhill trail

to hell, and I must repent for years I spent addin' to the

hideyard inventory

Oh now the rumble of the buffalo is bound to go to make

way for the greenhorn the sweet corn and the tinhorns

For many years I've laid 'em low and braved the bow

and arrow of the Indians

Finally here I am —

Holdin' my Sharps Big Fifty tight, I saw him in my sights,

I had him dead to rights, I'll dream of it tonight,

He was the last livin' free runnin' wild white buffalo.

Holdin' my Sharps Big Fifty tight, I had him in my sights,

I had him dead to rights, and I'll dream of it tonight

He was the last livin' free runnin' wild white buffalo

Oh, the last livin' ever lovin' wild white buffalo...

#66

sung by Mike Blakely

Mike Blakely

The Ballad of Jesse James

Traditional

Ramblin' Riversiders lyrics –

[Instrumental]

Jesse James was a lad who killed many men

He robbed the Glendale train

He stole from the rich and he gave to the poor

He had hand and a heart and a brain

Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life

Three children they were so brave

Robert Ford caught his eye and shot him on the sly

And they laid Jesse James in his grave

It was on a Wednesday night when the moon was shinin' bright

They robbed the Glendale train

And the folk from all about they all said without a doubt

It was robbed by Frank and Jesse James

Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life

Three children they were so brave

Robert Ford caught his eye and shot him on the sly

And they laid poor Jesse in his grave

[Instrumental]

It was on a Friday night when Jesse was at home

A-talkin' with his family brave

When along came Robert Ford like a thief in the night

And laid poor Jesse in his grave

Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life

Three children they were so brave

Robert Ford caught his eye then shot him on the sly

And they laid Jesse James in his grave

[Instrumental]

Well the people held their breath when they heard of Jesse's death

And they wondered just how he came to die

It was little Robert Ford one of Jesse's men

Who shot Jesse James on the sly

Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life

Three children they were so brave

But that dirty little coward that shot Mr. Howard

Has laid Jesse James in his grave.

[Instrumental]

#67

sung by The Ramblin' Riversiders

sung by Pete Seeger

Faster Horses (The Cowboy and the Poet)

by Tom T. Hall

Tom T. Hall lyrics –

He was an old time cowboy don't you understand

His eyes were sharp as razor blades his face was leather tanned

His toes were pointed inward from a-hangin' on a horse

He was an old philosopher of course

He was so thin I swear you could have used him for a whip

He had to drink a beer to keep his breeches on his hips

I knew I had to ask him about the mysteries of life

He spit between his boots and he replied

"It's faster horses, younger women,

"Older whiskey, more money."

He smiled and all his teeth were covered with tobacco stains

He said, "It don't do men no good to pray for peace and rain."

"Peace and rain is just a way to say prosperity,

"And buffalo chips is all it means to me."

I told him I was a poet I was lookin' for the truth

I do not care for horses, whiskey, women or the loot

I said I was a writer my soul was all on fire

He looked at me and he said "You are a liar.

"Son, it's faster horses, younger women,

"Older whiskey, and more money."

Well I was disillusioned If I say the least

I grabbed him by the collar and I jerked him to his feet

There was sumpn' cold and shiny laying by my head

So I started to believe the things he said

Well my poet days are over and I'm back to bein' me

As I enjoy the peace and comfort of reality

If my boy ever asks me what it is that I have learned

I think that I will readily affirm

"Son, it's faster horses, younger women,

Older whiskey, more money."

Faster horses, younger women,

Older whiskey, more money.

Faster horses, younger women,

Older whiskey, more money.

It's faster horses, younger women,

Older whiskey, more money...

#68

sung by Tom T. Hall

sung by Jack Stacey

It's faster horses,...

El Dorado

by John Gabriel & Nelson Riddle

George Alexander lyrics –

In sunshine and shadow from darkness till noon

Over mountains that reach from the sky to the moon

A man with a dream that will never let go

Keeps searchin' to find El Dorado

So ride boldly ride to the end of the rainbow

Ride boldly ride till you find El Dorado

The winds become bitter the sky turns to grey

His body grows weary he can't find his way

But he'll never turn back though he's lost in the snow

For he has to find El Dorado

So ride boldly ride to the end of the rainbow

Ride boldly ride till you find El Dorado

My Daddy once told me what a man oughta be

There's much more to life than the things we can see

And the godliest mortal you ever will know

Is the one with the dream of El Dorado

So ride boldly ride to the end of the rainbow

Ride boldly ride till you find El Dorado.

[Instrumental]

#69

sung by George Alexander

sung by Two Little Angels

Goodbye, Old Paint

Traditional

Ken Carson lyrics –

[Instrumental]

There's an old paint pony with his head hangin' low

His rider's gone where the green grasses grow

The Master has called from the big ranch up above

Goodbye Old Paint and the range that he loved

Goodbye Old Paint I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne

Goodbye Old Paint I'm off to Montan'

My foot's in the stirrup my pony won't stand

Goodbye Old Paint I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne

[Instrumental]

And when we're together Old Paint you and I

We'll build another campfire up yonder in the sky

Where we'll never have to work or chase another stray

Goodbye Old Paint I'm a-leavin' today

Goodbye Old Paint I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne

Goodbye Old Paint I'm off to Montan'

My foot's in the stirrup my pony won't stand

Goodbye Old Paint I'm a-leavin' Cheyenne.

#70

sung by Ken Carson

by Michael Martin Murphey