"Cattle Call"
Eddy Arnold
[Yodels]
The cattle are prowlin'
The coyotes are howlin'
Way out where the doggies roam
Where the spurs are a jinglin'
And the cowboy is singin'
His lonesome cattle call
[Yodels]
He rides in the sun
'Til his days work is done,
And he rounds up the cattle each fall
[Yodels]
Singing his cattle call
For hours he would ride
On the range far and wide
When the night winds blows up like smoke
His heart is a feather
In all kinds of weather
He sings his cattle call
[Yodels]
He's brown as a berry
From riding the prairie
And he sings with an old western drawl
[Yodels]
Singin' his cattle call
Happy Trails - Roy Rogers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGvCMruyjVg
Some trails are happy ones,
Others are blue.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts,
Here's a happy one for you.
Happy trails to you,
Until we meet again.
Happy trails to you,
Keep smilin' until then.
Who cares about the clouds when we'ere together?
Just sing a song, and bring the sunny weather.
Happy trails to you,
Til we meet again.
Stonewall Jackson
Old Showboat
I blew into Dallas feelin' kinda low thought I'd make me a bit of change at the rodeo
Heard the lineboss sayin' you on'ry cowpokes
Fifteen bales to any man who can ride Showboat (who can ride Showboat)
Showboat you old cuss I'm gonna ride you or I'll bust
Hold the reins watch the chains turn him loose that cayuse I'm gonna ride
They put me in the saddle the rein here in my hand
Then I saw her sittin' there a watchin' from the stands
She was kind of pretty a blonde with big blue eyes
I could see it hurt her so to see me have to ride (see me have to ride)
Showboat that old cuss I'm gonna ride him or I'll bust
Hold the reins watch the chains turn him loose that cayuse I'm gonna ride
He bugged me once from runnin' then he looked me in the eye
I slid down around his neck reachin' for the sky
Then he sent me flyin' like a little bird
Lord I think when I came down I ate ten pounds of dirt (ate ten pounds of dirt)
Showboat you old cuss I'm gonna ride you or I'll bust
Hold the reins ain't it a shame that cayuse done throwed me loose and broke my leg
I woke up in the General feelin' kinda hurt
Till I found that blue eyed blonde turned out to be my nurse
She fixed me up with patches and love I thought was free
Till she said now cowboy you're gonna marry me (gonna marry me)
Showboat you old cuss you done fixed me up much worse
Hold the reins ain't it a shame I'm getting married and old Showboat you're to blame
I'm getting married and old Showboat you're to blame
I'm getting married and old Showboat you're to blame
Sorry to 'ozzify' but I'm sure Edgar will tolerate it:
The Man From Snowy River, by A.B. (Banjo) Paterson [CP]
There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.
There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up -
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand -
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.
And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast;
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony - three parts thoroughbred at least -
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry - just the sort that won't say die -
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his quick and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.
But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, "That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop - lad, you'd better stop away,
These hills are far too rough for such as you."
So he waited, sad and wistful - only Clancy stood his friend -
"I think we ought to let him come," he said;
"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred.
"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough;
Where a horse's hooves strike firelight from the flintstones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy river riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."
So he went: they found the horses by the big mimosa clump,
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills."
So Clancy rode to wheel them - he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stock-horse past them and he made the ranges ring
With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.
Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black,
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,
Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, "We may bid the mob good day,
NO man can hold them down the other side."
When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull -
It well might make the boldest hold their breath;
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.
He sent the flint-stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat -
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringybarks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound
At the bottom of that terrible descent.
He was right among the horses as they climbed the farther hill,
And the watchers on the mountain, standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely; he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges - but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.
And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam;
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted, cowed and beaten; then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.
And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around the Overflow the reed-beds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The Man from Snowy River is a household word today,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.
Can you believe that this was done by Frank Sinatra?
Empty saddles in the old corral, where do ya ride tonight?
Are you rounding up the doggies, the strays of long ago?
Are ya on the trail to Buffalo?
Empty saddles in the old corral, where do ya ride tonight?
Are there rustlers on the border or a band of Navajo?
Are you heading for the Alamo?
Empty guns covered with rust, where do ya talk tonight?
Empty boots covered with dust, where do ya walk tonight?
Empty saddles in the old corral, my tears would be dried tonight.
If you'll only say I'm lonely as ya carry my old pal,
Empty saddles in the old corral.
Chisholm Trail
Well, come along friends, listen to my tale;
I'll tell you my troubles on the old Chisholm trail.
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay, yippy yay!
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay!
On a ten-dollar horse, a forty-dollar saddle,
I started Out a-punchin' those long-horned cattle.
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay, yippy yay!
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay!
I'm up in the morning before daylight;
Before I get to sleep the moon's shining bright.
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay, yippy yay!
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay1
It's bacon and beans 'most every day,
I'd sooner be a-eatin' the prairie hay.
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay, yippy yay!
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay!
I'll sell my outfit just as soon as I can,
'Cause I ain't punchin' cattle for no mean boss man.
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay, yippy yay!
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay!
With my knees in the saddle, my seat in the sky,
I'll quit punchin' cattle in the sweet by an' by.
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay, yippy yay!
Come-a ti yi yippy, yippy, yay1
TRADITIONAL
The Strawberry Roan: Lyrics
As performed by Cisco Houston
I was hangin' 'round town and just spendin' my time,
Out of a job and not earnin' a dime
When a feller steps up and he says, "I suppose
You're a bronc' bustin' man by the looks of your clothes."
"Your guess is near right, and a good one," I claim,
"Do you happen to have any bad ones to tame?"
Says, "I've got one and a bad one to buck;
Throwin' bronc riders he's had lots of luck."
Says, "This old pony ain't never been rode,
And the boy that gets on him is bound to get throwed."
Gets all excited and I ask what he pays
To ride this old goat for a couple of days.
Ofers a ten spot. I says, "I'm your man,
For the bronc never lived that I couldn't fan;
The bronc never lived, nor he never drew breath
That I couldn't ride till he starved plumb to death."
Well he says, "Get your saddle, I'll give you a chance."
We got in his buckboard and rode to the ranch.
Stayed until morning, and right after chuck
We goes out to see how this outlaw could buck.
Down in the horse corral standing alone,
Was that old caballo, strawberry roan.
His legs were spavined, and he had pigeon toes,
Little pig eyes and a big Roman nose,
Little pin ears that were crimped at the tip,
With a big 44 branded 'cross his left hip;
Ewe-necked and old, with a long lower jaw,
You can see with one eye he's a reg'lar outlaw.
Well I puts on my spurs and I coils up my twine,
Piles my loop on him, I'm sure feeling fine.
Gets in his middle and I opens the blind,
I'm right in his middle to see him unwind.
Well he bowed his old neck and I think he unwound,
He seemed to quit living down there on the ground,
Goes up towards the east and comes down towards the west,
To stay in his middle I'm a-doin' my best,
I'm telling you, no foolin', this pony can step,
I'm still in his middle I'm buildin' a rep,
Goes up on all fours and comes down on his side,
I don't see what keeps him from losin' his hide.
He's about the worst bucker I've seen on the range
He can turn on a nickel and give you some change.
Loses my stirrup and also my hat,
Starts pulling leather, I'm blind as a bat;
With a big forward jump he goes up on high,
Leaves me sittin' on nothin' way up in the sky,
Turns over twice, and I comes down to earth,
Lights in a-cussin' the day of his birth.
Well, I know there is ponies I'm unable to ride,
Some are still living, they haven't all died.
But I'll bet my money the man ain't alive,
That can stay with old strawberry when he makes his high dive.
Horses and Cattle
Chris Ledoux
My home's in montana, I wear a bandana,
My spurs are silver, my horse is a bay.
And I've been a-roamin? all over wyomin?
There's plenty of work, but there ain't too much pay.
Me and a few boys we signed on at dubois,
To feed through the winter and camp out awhile.
Come a hard hittin? norther from the montana border,
We tallied the frozen ones mile after mile.
Well they give you your three squares and a bunk to sleep there,
And just enough wages to keep you around.
But with no place to spend it and nowhere to send it,
You can stay out of debt if you stay out of town.
Chorus
It's horses and cattle and a double rig saddle,
With a stout line, a catch twine, and a good ropin' arm.
Wherever there's ranches, I've been takin' my chances,
From sunrise to sunset since the day I was born.
We struck out for laramie early one saturday,
Spring was a breakin? the grass turnin' green.
Well, I took a hand in some fast movin' brandin'
When they offered top wages at the bar seventeen.
We followed a rodeo clear up to codeo,
Tryin' to ride me a bronco or two.
Well, I [c]busted some hosses for [f]two or three bosses,
And [c]lost all the wages that [g]ever I [c]drew.
[c]well it's hell and high water for the [f]idaho border,
Where [c]i've got a gal if that letter don't [g]lie.
If she [c]gives me a reason to [f]stay through the season,
I'll [c]take her to elko when the [f]snow starts to [c]fly.
Chorus
Johnny Western is an Icon where I come from...
I like Johnny Western myself.
edgarblythe wrote:* Ridin' Down The Canyon
When evening chores are over at the ranch house on the plains
And all I have to do is lay around,
I saddle up my pony and go ridin' down the trail
To watch the desert sun go down.
Ridin' down the canyon to watch the sun go down
A picture that no artist ere can paint.
White faced cattle lowing on the mountain side,
I hear a coyote calling for its mate.
Cactus plants are blooming, sage brush everywhere,
granite spires are standing all around,
I tell you folks it's heaven to go riding down the trail
When the desert sun goes down.
Sons of the Pioneers
Thanks for including this song Edgar. Back when I was a little kid, the neighbors would get together at our house on a Saturday night and play guitars and sing. Though I was supposed to be in bed, I would sneak down a couple stair steps and listen to the fascinating sounds of live music. This song was my favorite. I waited for my father to sing it.
About four years ago, I recorded him in my home studio. We did about 10 songs total, capturing this one and digitizing it on a CD so that it's there for posterity. Of course his voice is a little aged and cracked, but it can still take me to the top of the stairs again, as only music can do.
tycoon wrote:edgarblythe wrote:* Ridin' Down The Canyon
When evening chores are over at the ranch house on the plains
And all I have to do is lay around,
I saddle up my pony and go ridin' down the trail
To watch the desert sun go down.
Ridin' down the canyon to watch the sun go down
A picture that no artist ere can paint.
White faced cattle lowing on the mountain side,
I hear a coyote calling for its mate.
Cactus plants are blooming, sage brush everywhere,
granite spires are standing all around,
I tell you folks it's heaven to go riding down the trail
When the desert sun goes down.
Sons of the Pioneers
Thanks for including this song Edgar. Back when I was a little kid, the neighbors would get together at our house on a Saturday night and play guitars and sing. Though I was supposed to be in bed, I would sneak down a couple stair steps and listen to the fascinating sounds of live music. This song was my favorite. I waited for my father to sing it.
About four years ago, I recorded him in my home studio. We did about 10 songs total, capturing this one and digitizing it on a CD so that it's there for posterity. Of course his voice is a little aged and cracked, but it can still take me to the top of the stairs again, as only music can do.
What a great story. Thanks, and welcome.
Don't Fence Me In--lyrics by Bing Crosby
Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above,
Don't fence me in.
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love,
Don't fence me in.
Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze,
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees,
Send me off forever but I ask you please,
Don't fence me in.
Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies.
On my Cayuse, let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise.
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
And gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
And I can't look at hovels and I can't stand fences
Don't fence me in.
Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies,
Don't fence me in.
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love,
Don't fence me in.
Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please,
Don't fence me in
Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies
On my Cayuse, let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise.
Ba boo ba ba boo.
I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
And gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
And I can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences
Don't fence me in.
No.
Poppa, don't you fence me in
A young cowboy named Billy Joe grew restless on the farm
A boy filled with wanderlust who really meant no harm
He changed his clothes and shined his boots
And combed his dark hair down
And his mother cried as he walked out
Chorus
Don't take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don't take your guns to town
He laughed and kissed his mom
And said your Billy Joe's a man
I can shoot as quick and straight as anybody can
But I wouldn't shoot without a cause
I'd gun nobody down
But she cried again as he rode away
Chorus
Don't take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don't take your guns to town
He sang a song as on he rode
His guns hung at his hips
He rode into a cattle town
A smile upon his lips
He stopped and walked into a bar
And laid his money down
But his mother's words echoed again
Chorus
Don't take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don't take your guns to town
He drank his first strong liquor then to calm his shaking hand
And tried to tell himself he had become a man
A dusty cowpoke at his side began to laugh him down
And he heard again his mothers words
Chorus
Don't take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don't take your guns to town
Filled with rage then
Billy Joe reached for his gun to draw
But the stranger drew his gun and fired
Before he even saw
As Billy Joe fell to the floor
The crowd all gathered 'round
And wondered at his final words
Chorus
Don't take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don't take your guns to town
Johnny Cash
Don't Take Your Guns to Town
Ballad of Billy Joe
Jerry Lee Lewis
(Written by Charlie Rich)
I'm the man they're gonna hang
For killin' Billy Joe
But there's a whole lot more
To the story than they know
Listen to my side of it
I think that you will see
The reason that I killed the boy
He made a fool of me
There was a girl named Mary Ann
Mary Ann was all the world to me
We planned to get married
And set the date the wedding was to be
But I walked up to her house one night
And out there on the front porch they sat
And I swore they'd never get away with that
Billy Joe took Mary Ann to the dance hall one night
They didn't know I was hiding in the shadows out of sight
He checked in his hat and he gave her hand a pat
And I swore they'd never get away with that
I swore they'd never get away with breaking my heart
I knew there was just one way to keep them apart
Everybody said his mother told him not to take his guns to town
He should have listened to her cause she knew I was gonna gun him down
Now I'll be hung tomorrow just because I had to kill that little rat
But I swore he'd never get away with that
And billy Joe didn't get away with that
When the Cactus is in Bloom
Bill Monroe
The cattle prowled and the coyotes howled
Out on the Great Divide
I never done no wrong, just singing a song
As down the trail I ride
The rattlesnakes rattle at the prairie dogs
Don't you hear that mournful tune
For it's roundup time away out West
When the cactus are in bloom
Daylight comes and the cowhands yell
They call out ev'ry man
I throw my saddle on my old cowhorse
I drink my coffee from a can
The sun goes down on the cattle trail
I'm gazing at the moon
For it's roundup time away out West
When the cactus are in bloom
[Yodel]
We don't have cold weather
It never snows or rains
That is where the sunshine's best
Out on the western plains
Some of the boys have gone away
But they will be back soon
For it's roundup time away out West
When the cactus are in bloom
Daylight comes and the cowhands yell
They call out ev'ry man
I throw my saddle on my old cowhorse
I drink my coffee from a can
The sun goes down on the cattle trail
I'm gazing at the moon
For it's roundup time away out West
When the cactus are in bloom
[Yodel]
