When it's roundup time in Texas and the bloom is on the sage,
How I long to be in Texas back a-ridin' on the range;
Just to smell the bacon fryin' when it's sizzlin' in the pan,
Hear the breakfast horn in the early morn drinkin' coffee from a can;
Just a-ridin' rockin' ropin' bound to leather all day long,
Just a-swayin' sweatin' swearin' listenin? to a cowhand's song;
How it beckons and I reckon I would work for any wage,
To be free again just to be again where the bloom is on the sage.
To most folks there's a spot that lives forever,
Deep down within their fondest memories,
Though I have been a rover I have never,
Seen anyplace that I would rather be;
When it's roundup time in Texas and the bloom is on the sage,
How I long to be in Texas back a-ridin' on the range;
Just to smell the bacon fryin' when it's sizzlin' in the pan,
Hear the breakfast horn in the early morn drinkin' coffee from a can;
Just a-ridin' rockin' ropin' bound to leather all day long,
Just a-swayin' sweatin' swearin' listenin? to a cowhand's song;
How it beckons and I reckon I would work for any wage,
To be free again just to be again where the bloom is on the sage.