1882

These long horn cattle we're driving
Are looking thin
And the wild rag round my neck
Is soaking wet

There's a dust storm cross Montana
Cattle rustlers on the loose
It's just the way of life
1882

Our wagons wheel is busted
And the riders are gaining ground
my ole Paint is laggin'
Bound to lay down

I hear the gunfire coming
I begin to shoot
Just a spurring my pony
In 1882

The gun smoke finally settles
As I stumble around
I search for the wagon
But it's not to be found

The bodies they lay lifeless
My paint shot dead too
The hell I've seen
In 1882

Now the desert I am walking
Saddle on my back
My canteen is empty
No cornbread in my sack

The vultures begin to circle
They know I'm through
With a bullet in my side
In 1882



Credits
Writer(s): Hayden Powell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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