
Date of issue: 19.09.1996
Song language: English
I'd Like to Be in Texas When They Roundup in the Spring |
In the lobby of a big hotel in New York Town, one day |
Sat a bunch of fellows telling yarns, to pass the time away |
They told of places where they’d been and different things they’d seen |
Some preferred Chicago Town, while others New Orleans |
I can see the cattle grazing o’er the hills at early morn |
I can see the campfires smoking at the breaking of the dawn |
I can hear the bronco’s neighing, I can hear the cowboy sing |
I’d like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring |
In a corner in an old armchair, sat a man whose hair was gray |
He listened to them eagerly, to what they had to say |
They asked him where he’d like to be, his clear old voice did ring |
I’d like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring |
I can see the cattle grazing o’er the hills at early morn |
I can see the campfires smoking at the breaking of the dawn |
I can hear the bronco’s neighing, I can hear the cowboy sing |
I’d like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring |
They sat and listened carefully to each word he had to say |
They knew the old man sitting there, had been a top hand in his day |
They asked him for a story of his life out on the plains |
Slowly he removed his hat then quietly began |
I’ve seen 'em stampede o’er the hills till you’d think they’d never stop |
I’ve seen 'em run for miles and miles until their leader dropped |
I was a foreman of a cow ranch, the calling of a king |
I’d like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring |
I can see the cattle grazing o’er the hills at early morn |
I can see the campfires smoking at the breaking of the dawn |
I can hear the bronco’s neighing, I can hear the cowboy sing |
I’d like to be in Texas for the roundup in the spring |
I’d like to sleep my last long sleep with mother earth for bed |
My saddle for a pillow, the bright stars overhead |
Then I could hear the last stampede, the songs of rivers sing |
Way back down in Texas for the roundup in the spring |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Coyotes | 1998 |
The Old Cow Man | 1997 |
Zebra Dun | 1997 |
Little Joe the Wrangler | 1997 |
Barbara Allen | 2004 |
The Long Road West | 1997 |
The Freedom Song | 1998 |
Texas Plains | 1996 |
At the End of a Long, Lonely Day | 1996 |
Prairie Lullabye | 1998 |
Say Goodbye to Montana | 1993 |
The Great Speckled Bird | 2009 |
Old Red | 2004 |
Twilight on the Trail | 1998 |
Let the Rest of the World Go By | 1998 |
St. Louis Blues | 2006 |