There's lots of pretty cowgirls but this you may not know. There's a very special kind at every rodeo. Her husband is a cowboy she's his greatest fan.
When I was a lad an old cowboy told me well son you're sure ridin' well. There's fame and there's fortune. And glory waitin' at the end of the rodeo trail.
Most of the time, things are pretty sublime. In this little one horse town. Well, they close all the stores and they roll up the streets. When the evening sun goes down.
Talk is so cheap anybody can say. They're gonna give you endless love. Then turn their back and just walk away. When the going gets a little rough. . But when I took your hand.
Well, I spent half my life out on the highway. Chasin' rodeos through every little town. In an old pickup truck with a little cowboy luck. Well, I never thought I'd ever settle down.
The Nashville friends, they think I'm strange. To make my home out on the range. They think it's nothin' but a God forsaken land. Why don't you bring your guitar and family, move on down to Tennessee.
Started out just a young cowboy. Writin' songs on a cheap guitar. Melodies were kind of rough. But you knew they came from the heart. . And if not for you.
Well, I never was the kind to wear my feelings on my sleeve. But since I've met you, girl, there's been a world of change in me. Well, I've got to say I love you, hope you like the sound of that.
He wore a purple shirt a yeller neck tie some high heal boots that come knee high. Crocket spurs hangin' off his feet. The hair across his forehead was combed real neat.
She saw him for the first time in that open all night diner. When she served him up some chili and a beer. And the feeling that she got when he grinned across the counter.
Well it's Saturday night. You're all dressed up in blue. I've been watching you awhile. Maybe you've been watching me too. And so somebody ran out. Left somebody's heart in a mess.
Boots spurs and a pearl handle cap pistol and a gold mine that dug in the sand. I rode the fence line in her backyard each day on a stick horse I called old Dan.
The cool fall breeze is blowin' and the leaves are turnin' gold. And the smell of wood smoke takes me back to days of long ago. I think about my childhood, pumpkin pie and Halloween.
I was born and raised in the Red Clay Hills of Texas. In the land where the grass gets only beer can tall. That's where I learned to cuss and fight and chew Brown Mule Tobacco.
Way up high in the Sierra peaks. Where the yellow jack pines grow tall. Old Sandy Bob and Buster Jiggs. Had a roundup camp last fall. . Oh, they'd taken the horses and the runnin' irons.
Well, there's always been groups of people. That never could see eye to eye. And I always thought if they ever had. A chance to sit down and talk face to face.
I'm just a workin' cowboy this ranch I'm on ain't mine. But I got a bed in the bunk houseand a place come supper time. I don't get much for wages but it's good enough for me.
I left home with a suitcase, my songs and my guitar. Headed down to Nashville gonna try to be a star. The Nashville folks they made me feel like I was right at home.
The old man used to dream of the fortunes he'd seek. Now he lives in a room where you pay by the week. His hands are all battered and his pony's gone lame.