Narrator:
  In a bar in Arizona
  On a sultry summer day
  A cowboy came in off the road just to pass the time away
  He pulled a stool up to the bar and pushed his hat back on his head
  I listened to the stories told to the words that cowboy said. He said...
  
  Cowboy:
  
  I could tell you stories 'bout the Indians on the plain
  Talk about Wells Fargo and the comin' of the trains
  Talk of the slaughter of the buffalo that roamed
  Sing a song of settlers, come out looking for a home
  
  CHORUS (both)
  Now the man with the big hat is buying
  Drink up while the drinking is free
  Drink up to the cowboys a dead or a dying
  Drink to my compadres and me
  Drink to my compadres and me
  
  Narrator:
  Well his shirt was brown and faded
  And his hat was wide and black
  And the pants that once were blue were grey and had a pocket gone in back
  He had a finger missin' from the hand that rolled the smoke
  He laughed and talked of cowboy life but you knew it weren't no joke, he said....
  
  Cowboy:
  I seen the day so hot your pony could not stand
  And if your water bag was dry, don't count upon the land
  And winters, I've seen winters when your boots froze in the snow
  And your only thought was leavin', but you had nowhere to go
  
  CHORUS
  
  Narrator:
  Well he rested easy at the bar, his foot upon the rail
  And laughed and talked of times he'd had out living on the trail
  The silence was never broken as the words poured from his lips
  Quiet as the forty five he carried on his hip, he said ...
  
  Cowboy:
  I rode the cattle drive from here to San Antone
  Ten days in the saddle you know, and weary to the bone
  I rode from here to Wichita without a womans' smile
  The camp fire where I cooked my beans was the only light for miles
  
  CHORUS
  
  Narrator:
  Well he rolled another ciggarette, as he turned toward the door
  I heard his spurs a jingling as his boot heels hit the floor
  He loosened up his belt a notch, pulled his hat down on his head
  As he turned to say goodby to me this is what he said....
  
  Cowboy:
  Now the high-lines chase the highways, and the fences close the range
  And to see a working cowboy, that's a sight that's mighty strange
  But a cowboy's life was lonley, and his lot was not the best
  But if it hadn't been for men like me, there wouldn't be no west.
  
  Repeat Chorus