Ah, there's something about the smell of last nights campfire in the air,
that reminds me why I left the city life, for a new one up here.
bacon cooking over an open fire always tastes a little finer,
eating breakfast in a restaurant or some fancy diner.
while I was all alone, looking at the stars,
me why I left behind the fancy home and cars.
thoughts take me back to the time I rode herd in Montana,
brown Stetson hat and blue bandana.
mounted buckaroo spurs with the jingle-bob,
brandin', that sure was one hell of a job.
Up here a
man sure has a lot of time to think,
the time I rode into town for a drink.
handled Colt's strapped to my side,
saw me coming, they all stepped aside.
The men gave me a nod and the ladies
and every step I took , I took with
from the B-B just happened to be there,
fixed on me , they couldn't help but stare.
always with them boys, it was the same old story,
drunk and looking for their moment of glory.
were sharp, my hands were steady and light as a feather,
case one of them was feeling lucky, and tried to clear leather.
it was so quiet, no one made a sound,
stayed that way, till I rode out of town.
was the time in Calico, when I first met Corinne,
she was the prettiest girl that I had ever seen.
still see her face, and the smell of her skin,
never forget the first time she invited me in.
It's time to break camp and take care of my horse, old Buck,
always a friend, even when I'm down on my luck.
As we ride
along this old cow trail feeling peaceful and free,
would have to envy someone as lucky as me.
heading to that snow capped mountain and through the pass,
the valley, trying to find the herd some spring pasture grass.
good to be part of it all! The Pines here grow so...