A Century Too Late

The work is hot, tired & nasty sometimes you ride your mount into the ground some nights you can't sleep for the desert chill or coyotes howl You chase them steers come hail or hell in pouring rain cross river's swell might lose a few steers or a few good mounts but if, at end of day, every man still has his skin That's what really counts Yes, we've buried a few compadres and cursed many a longhorn stampede Saw fear & terror and tasted death as through the dark we raced So if you see us Cowboys coming, give us room cut us some slack We never meant to bow these legs or stand here looking ragged We're chasing what lies deep within Wondering why we were brought here too late An old time cowboy in the twentieth century brought here by the hand of Fate