He was a good hand breakin? horses, pure poison with a rope
He lives for strong, black coffee and the rollin? of his smokes
He throws a leg up on ol? Ranger, sticks a rowel into his hide
Saddled there in his easy chair, through his memory he still rides
verse 2
While shakin? out a good loop he flicks his ashes on the floor
He?s a brandin? for Sam Williams, who he loved the workin? for
In the air he draws a picture with a cigarette in his hand
As his fingers make the last stroke, in the smoke I see the brand
Whoopi Ti Yi Yay is not his way, he didn?t choose his line of work
There?s no silver on his saddle and no fringe upon his shirt
Well, I?d give the world to be like him born 90 years ago
?Cause when the Master?s hands made this man, He put a cowboy in his soul
Break
verse 4
In the middle of the story he pushes out of his chair
Shuffles out to the barn and hollars me out there
He points up to his saddle in that dusty hideaway
He says he?d like to give it to me, but he might need it someday
Whoopi Ti Yi Yay is not his way, he didn?t choose his line of work
There?s no silver on his saddle and no fringe upon his shirt
Well, I?d give the world to be like him born 90 years ago
?Cause when the Master?s hands made this man, He put a cowboy in his soul
?Cause when the Master?s hands made this man. . . . He put a cowboy in his soul
Final Break