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You can always tell a Cowboy
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A piece of Cowboy Poetry off My wild Places CD
texas acoustic traditional western cowboy yodeling ft worth cattle call stockyards
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Honest to God Cowboy Music!
Saddle up with Buck Helton! Im a rootin, tootin, sixgun shootin, yodeling cowhand! (courtesy of Wylie Gustafson) These lyrics describe Buck Helton to a T! Singer, Songwriter, Yodeler extrordinaire, Award winning Cowboy Poet, Author, Columnist, Humorist, Emcee, and Western Actor. Buck brings the music, history and romance of the West to life before your very eyes! Whether you're after historically acurate costumes, and songs of the trail (and the stories behind them) or the golden age of the B-Westerns, with the great tunes from Roy, and Gene, Tex and Rex. Cowboy Poetry for your next gathering, yodels that'll blow the roof right off 'yer bunkhouse, or a great villian or side-kick for your next production, Buck is the one to call!
Song Info
Genre
Podcasts • Poetry
Charts
Peak #22
Peak in subgenre #3
Author
B.Helton
Rights
Copyright B.Helton 2001
Uploaded
March 28, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 1.8 MB • 128 kbps • 1:58
Story behind the song
This was inspired by a discussion overheard on how you can always tell a working Cowboy apart from the drugstore kind. I agreed, but felt the description did not go quite far enough.
Lyrics
You can always tell a Cowboy... You can always tell a Cowboy, But not by the clothes he wears You see his outfit’s been adopted, By those who neither know or care High falutin city folks Who'll never understand The deep connection that exists Between the Cowboy and the land. He’ll cuss them long-eared critters Then ride into town and brag ’bout the drive he just come off of Spent three months ridin drag He may wear a fine new skypiece, Or a battered lid of straw But he’ll take it with him everywhere That’s practically the law Oh, he’ll take it off to pray Or if ladies are around But otherwise he’’ll wear it proudly As a King would wear a crown His boots are plumb up to his knees And spurs are at his feet With jingle-bobs a ‘ringin That’s a sound that’s mighty sweet When you’re out there on the prairie With a horse between you’re knees ‘Ridin back to camp With the smell of woodsmoke on the breeze You see a Cowboy wont be found indoors Or even in a tent No, he’ll sleep out on the prairie On those nights that Heaven sent And smile as he gazes On the wonders up above And thanks The Maker of creation For the life he dearly loves It’s a life that’s short on comfort Eatin mostly Beef and Beans And there’s times he wont have one red cent In the pocket of his jeans But you can tell a real Cowboy By the twinkle in His eye For he’s thinking of a day Coming in the bye and bye When He’ll cross the Jordan at the trails end And meet The Boss of the skies And make his home there on the Golden Range Where old Cowboys never die
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