“Cowboy Lullaby”
Desert silver blue beneath the pale starlight
Coyote yappin’ lazy on a hill
Sleepy winks of light along the far skyline
Time for milling cattle to be still
So, now, the lightnin’s far away.
The coyote’s nothing skeery, just singing to his dearie
Yahoo! Amollo Holiday, so settle down, you cattle, till the morning.
Nothing out there on the range that you folks need,
Nothing there that seems to catch your eye,
Still you got to watch them or they’ll all stampede
Plunging down some ‘rroyo bank to die
So, now, the lightnin’s far away.
The coyote’s nothing skeery, just singing to his dearie
Yahoo! Amollo Holiday, so settle down, you cattle, till the morning.
ROUNDUP LULLABY
(Badger Clark)
Desert blue and silver in the still moonshine,
Coyote yappin’ lazy on the hill,
Sleepy winks of lightnin’ on the far sky line,
Time for millin’ cattle to be still.
So—o, now, the lightnin’s far away,
The coyote’s nothin’ skeery;
He’s singin’ to his dearie—
Hee—ya, tammalalleday!
Settle down, you cattle, till the mornin’.
Nothin’ out the hazy range that you folks need,
Nothin’ we kin see to take your eye.
Yet we got to watch you or you’d all stampede,
Plungin’ down some ‘royo bank to die.
So—o, now, for still the shadows stay;
The moon is slow and steady;
The sun comes when he’s ready.
Hee—ya, tammalalleday!
No use runnin’ out to meet the mornin’.
Cows and men are foolish when the light grows dim,
Dreamin’ of a land too far to see.
There, you dream, is wavin’ grass and streams that brim
And it often seems the same to me.
So—o, now, for dreams they never pay.
The dust it keeps us blinkin’.
We’re seven miles from drinkin’.
Hee—ya, tammalalleday!
But we got to stand it till the mornin’.
Mostly it’s a moonlight world our trail winds through.
Kain’t see much beyond our saddle horns.
Always far away is misty silver-blue;
Always underfoot it’s rocks and thorns.
So—o, now. It must be this away—
The lonesome owl a-callin’,
The mournful coyote squallin’.
Hee—ya, tammalalleday!
Mocking-birds don’t sing until the mornin’.
Always seein’ ‘wayoff dreams of silver-blue,
Always feelin’ thorns that stab and sting.
Yet stampedin’ never made a dream come true,
So I ride around myself and sing,
So—o, now, a man has got to stay,
A-likin’ or a-hatin’,
But workin’ on and waitin’.
Hee—ya, tammalalleday!
All of us are waitin’ for the mornin’.