One night while I was out ridin' the graveyard shift, midnight 'til dawn,
The moon was bright as a reading light for a letter from an old friend back home,
And he asked me "Why do you ride for your money? Tell me, why do you rope for short pay?
You ain't gettin' nowhere and you're losin' your sha-a-are.
Boy, you must have gone crazy out there."
He said "Last night I run into Jenny. She's married and has a good life.
Boy, you sure missed the track when you never came back.
She's the perfect professional's wife.
'And she asked me, 'Why does he ride for his money? And tell me why does he rope for short pay?
He ain't gettin' nowhere and he's losin' his sha-a-re
Boy, he must've gone crazy out there.'"
Ah, but they've never seen the Northern Lights; they've never seen a hawk on the wing,
Never spent spring on the Great Divi-i-ide,
And they've never heard ol' Camp Cookie sing.
Well, I read up the last of my letter, and I tore off the stamp for black Jim.
When Billy rode up to relieve me, he just looked at my letter and grinned.
He said, "Now why do they ride for their money? Tell me why do they ride for short pay?
They ain't gettin' nowhere and they're losin' their sha-a-are.
Boy, they must've gone crazy out there.
Son, they all must be crazy out there.
(Repeat chorus, then yodel)