Vaquero Song

The vaqueros

Sittin' on the backside
Of the train
Sippin' their
Country Cosmopolitans

Of whiskey and beer
Letting out wide beads
Of laughter

Each has a pistol
To his waist
I can see it, clear

But they're the best storytellers
I've come across
In all my years

The death of the old man
The best country singer
The best gunslinger
In Mexico land

We'll see him off
To a fitting end
A funeral dirge
Playing over his head

With a bandana on
Sittin' in my corner
I document
Disorder

I bring the glass
Half full to my
Lips and drink
From it

My cowboy hat
Made of straw
Hangs over my eyes
And my soul

I'll pluck these strings
'Til I'm dead
Like this old man, here
May he rest



Credits
Writer(s): Terrence Walsh
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link