Sing Me a Song

Sing Me a Song Oh, sing me a song of cows and campfires And dream back to those days that are long past; Of empty bunkhouse and tall mountain spires, Of old west ghost towns and things that won't last. Think back to trail drives and prairie house sod And sing me a tune of lost western lore; Of thunder stampede and starlight of God, Of worn-out saddles and what comes no more. Oh, listen now will you, to times gone by-- Low singing round fires with voice soft and sure; Hear with stone ears of that which makes us cry: Old times flown by and the days that were pure. Sing again now as we head up that hill, Soak in the horn moon of deep starry night; The horses are mute but drink up their fill-- Our past is forever and dark is light.