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Last Cowboy Song

Höfundur lags: Ed Bruce og Ron Peterson Flytjandi: Waylon Jennings Sent inn af: Anonymous


[C]This is the last cowboy song
The end of a hundred year [F]waltz
The [G7]music is sad as they're singing along
Another piece of America's [C]lost


He rides a feed lot and clerks in a market
On weekends selling tobacco and [G7]beer   

His days are spent surrounded by fences
But he'll dream tonight of when fences weren't [C]here


The Old Chisholm Trail is covered by concrete
They drive 'em to market in fifty foot [G7]rigs   

They´ll roll by his graveside and they don´t even notice
Like living and dying was all that he [C]did  


He rides a feed lot and clerks in a market
On weekends selling tobacco and [G7]beer   

His days are spent surrounded by fences
But he'll dream tonight of when fences weren't [C]here


He rides a feed lot and clerks in a market
On weekends selling tobacco and [G7]beer   

His days are spent surrounded by fences
But he'll dream tonight of when fences weren't [C]here

This is the last cowboy song
The end of a hundred year waltz
The music is sad as they're singing along
Another piece of America's lost

He rides a feed lot and clerks in a market
On weekends selling tobacco and beer

His days are spent surrounded by fences
But he'll dream tonight of when fences weren't here

The Old Chisholm Trail is covered by concrete
They drive 'em to market in fifty foot rigs

They´ll roll by his graveside and they don´t even notice
Like living and dying was all that he did

He rides a feed lot and clerks in a market
On weekends selling tobacco and beer

His days are spent surrounded by fences
But he'll dream tonight of when fences weren't here

He rides a feed lot and clerks in a market
On weekends selling tobacco and beer

His days are spent surrounded by fences
But he'll dream tonight of when fences weren't here

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  • G7

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