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Most old ranches in the West, have a history of their past
Legends and tales about ranching in hard time
Blood, sweat, tears and a lot of elbow grease
The at the 5Y, those days are long past
The last 40 years it has been nothing but crime
Day and night, there is no real peace

July, 1976, I was shoeing horses for a living
Southern, New Mexico, the Sun was jalepeno hot
Pulled up to the 5Y, before it got to warm
Was supposed to be a horse breeding farm, but that was deceiving
Something about that day I never forgot
I knew that I was in for a storm

The owner's name was Sawford, had not bathed in days
In his office, a metal table, dirty mattress. bottle of whiskey and a .45
Told me where the mares were at, would pay me when I was done
I started to think about changing my ways
A gut feeling told me to work fast, if I was going to get out alive
Sweating like a fool, it was not all the Sun

Four miles to the border, many strange things happen there
At lunch, I stopped for a bite to eat
Found a tree near by, so I sat in the shade
A big black Lime drove up, driven by a pair
In business suits, Sawford they were there to meet
It was his day to get paid

I knew it was Mafiaoso, but i did not want to know why?
I went to pounding iron and driving nails
When i finished he gave me a $100 and to keep the change
I wanted to be out if there and did want to die
And all I could think of was "Happy Trails"
It was no longer "Home On The Range"

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