When the Wind Rides Free
I took a job with the ol’ saddle man
After years on the range too free,
Workin’ day hours I never could stand—
Not bein’ the man I should be.
I was all boxed in by houses and such,
When the night sky was once my roof—
I felt that life didn’t amount to much,
‘Les I heard the wolf and the hoof.
Oh, give me the days when the wind rides free
And I’m ridin’ out on the plain—
Yes, let me ride where the sun doesn’t flee—
Free as the wild horses and rain.
Oh, please never stop the coyote call
Or the bald eagle high and free.
And let me ride to the cattle’s high bawl—
A hero and man that never did crawl—
That still rides proud for all to see.
I just couldn’t take the city or town,
A wife or any tie to bind—
I just couldn’t let those things hold me down—
It was my life I had to find.
But all those years and the lure of a buck,
They kept me in the town still jailed—
I never rode the range with that same pluck
And in my heart knew I had failed.
So gone are the days when the wind rode free
As I reined it into the night—
Before I knew that I’d no longer see
All the world that came in my sight.
Yet still in these times of red settin’ suns,
I long to ride skies to the crest—
To spur and to yell and shoot off those guns—
To ride the wild wind and see how she runs—
To taste the free air ’fore I rest.
Copyright © Glen Enloe | Year Posted 2007
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