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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required You can hear coyotes come a calling And the cattle restless now and bawling As we dodge the storm that sends us sprawling On that range we’ll see no more. The birds like omens now are all singing And our thoughts and lives are swiftly winging Toward that railhead with these cows we’re bringing On that range we’ll see no more. Nothing lasts forever we are thinking As our heart’s and spirits are now sinking While on to that last day we are slinking On that range we’ll see no more. They say that the Old West it is dying But it’s not for all our work and trying, But like these streams we are parched and drying On that range we’ll see no more. Our life is rough and so unforgiving, But it was much more than just a living— Branded in our souls with no misgiving On that range we’ll see no more. After longhorns, whisky and the shouting, For other jobs we will go a scouting— Cowboys now on our sad final outing— On that range we’ll see no more. They say us cowpokes were made for fighting, And that we find those wrongs that need righting As we still honor Him with no slighting On that range we’ll see no more. One last time we’ll hear the cattle lowing While on prairie seas we go a rowing Riding toward wisdom and final knowing On that range we’ll see no more.
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