Don Edwards

In the lobby of a big hotel in New York Town, one day
Sat a bunch of fellows telling yarns, to pass the time away
They told of places where they'd been and different things they'd seen
Some preferred Chicago Town, while others New Orleans

I can see the cattle grazing o'er the hills at early morn
I can see the campfires smoking at the breaking of the dawn
I can hear the bronco's neighing, I can hear the cowboy sing
I'd like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring

In a corner in an old armchair, sat a man whose hair was gray
He listened to them eagerly, to what they had to say
They asked him where he'd like to be, his clear old voice did ring
I'd like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring

I can see the cattle grazing o'er the hills at early morn
I can see the campfires smoking at the breaking of the dawn
I can hear the bronco's neighing, I can hear the cowboy sing
I'd like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring

They sat and listened carefully to each word he had to say
They knew the old man sitting there, had been a top hand in his day
They asked him for a story of his life out on the plains
Slowly he removed his hat then quietly began

I've seen 'em stampede o'er the hills till you'd think they'd never stop
I've seen 'em run for miles and miles until their leader dropped
I was a foreman of a cow ranch, the calling of a king
I'd like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring

I can see the cattle grazing o'er the hills at early morn
I can see the campfires smoking at the breaking of the dawn
I can hear the bronco's neighing, I can hear the cowboy sing
I'd like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring

I'd like to sleep my last long sleep with mother earth for bed
My saddle for a pillow, the bright stars overhead
Then I could hear the last stampede, the songs of rivers sing
Way back down in Texas for the roundup in the spring

In the lobby of a big hotel in New York Town, one day
Sat a bunch of fellows telling yarns, to pass the time away
They told of places where they'd been and different things they'd seen
Some preferred Chicago Town, while others New Orleans

I can see the cattle grazing o'er the hills at early morn
I can see the campfires smoking at the breaking of the dawn
I can hear the bronco's neighing, I can hear the cowboy sing
I'd like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring

In a corner in an old armchair, sat a man whose hair was gray
He listened to them eagerly, to what they had to say
They asked him where he'd like to be, his clear old voice did ring
I'd like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring

I can see the cattle grazing o'er the hills at early morn
I can see the campfires smoking at the breaking of the dawn
I can hear the bronco's neighing, I can hear the cowboy sing
I'd like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring

They sat and listened carefully to each word he had to say
They knew the old man sitting there, had been a top hand in his day
They asked him for a story of his life out on the plains
Slowly he removed his hat then quietly began

I've seen 'em stampede o'er the hills till you'd think they'd never stop
I've seen 'em run for miles and miles until their leader dropped
I was a foreman of a cow ranch, the calling of a king
I'd like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring

I can see the cattle grazing o'er the hills at early morn
I can see the campfires smoking at the breaking of the dawn
I can hear the bronco's neighing, I can hear the cowboy sing
I'd like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring

I'd like to sleep my last long sleep with mother earth for bed
My saddle for a pillow, the bright stars overhead
Then I could hear the last stampede, the songs of rivers sing
Way back down in Texas for the roundup in the spring

Up before the sunrise
It's a rocky road back home
The dust won't be near settled
As where we just come from

I'll keep my promise to you
Just like I said I would
And lay you 'neath the pecan trees
And hang your spurs for good

Say goodbye to Montana
Where the northers always blow
The paint brush will be blummin'
By the time I get you home

We drove a herd from Texas
To the big Montana sky
I swear sometimes I wondered
If we make it here alive

I wish I could of told you
That you were my best friend
I guess you always knew that
But we were both to tough to bend

Say goodbye to Montana
Where the northers always blow
The paint brush will be blummin'
By the time I get you home

All honor to the cowboy
Your praises, they will sing
'Cause you never sold your saddle
And that's the most important thing

Adios Montana
Where the northers always blow
The paint brush will be blummin
By the time I get you home

Down in my dreams somehow it seems
That I'm back where I belong
Just a country hick way back in the stick
Back where I was born
Cause the city lights and the city ways
Are drivin' me insane
I wanna be alone I wanna be back home
Out on the Texas plains

I wanna drink my java from an old tin can
While the moon comes shinin' high
I wanna hear the call of a whipoorwill
I wanna hear a coyote whine
I wanna feel my saddle horse between my legs
Just riding him out on the range
Just to kick him in the sides let him show
His step and pride out on the Texas plains

I wanna hear the thunder as it goes and rolls
I wanna feel the rain in my face
Just a thousand miles from the city lights
Living a cowboy ways
I wanna sleep at night beneath the stars above
With that whole moon shinin' down
I wanna cook my grabbel with catfish skulls
Fifty miles from town
I wanna drink my java...

Sometime soon I'm goin' back back
Where the skies are blue
In a little house just built for two
Back where my dreams come true
Well I'm tired of subways
And the forty story shacks
I'm tradin' the wide open range
I wanna go back, please take me back
Out on the Texas plains
I wanna drink my java...