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All across this wicked land
Shadows crawling from the sun
No drop of water for our tongues
Half crazy steers a bawling
Cattle drive stumbling through the draw
Buzzards circling way down low
“If you’re going to die just let us know
We’ll catch you as you’re falling”
And a band of reckless riders
Shouting as they top the rim
Hands filled with iron and faces grim
“We’ll have that herd you cowboys”
Curley reaches for his iron
A round of bullets drops him down
Herd gets spooked by the thunderous sound
“It’s the Jamboree, you cowboys”
All across this wicked land
Nothing like a cow stampede
You can follow You can’t lead
We turn our hearts to Texas
All across this wicked land
As the rustlers chase the herd
We chase the mockingbird
All the way home to Texas
So ride the wind back to Texas, boys
On the scent of gun smoke & blood.
Ride the wind back to Texas,
Through the lead rain & the mud.
Ride it hard back to Texas
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