I Wish We Had Our Own Trails

I wish that I just had my own road— I wish that I had my own trail— I wish the stories hadn’t been told ‘Bout how there’s now no range to sail. It seems that all the land is now fenced And there are no more wagon swales— To most, the Old West now makes no sense And the interstates are our trails. I wish for those times of clear creek skies When the horse and bison ran free— When the campfires burned and night had eyes And the trails were open for me. Oh, I wish we all could go back now And each of us had his own trail— And winter never broke summer’s bow And roads we rode down did not fail.