When the wind whispers o'er the prairie
When the grass swells like the tide
When old leathers mew as they tend to do
When they stretch the fresh rawhide

When the sound of cowboy's jingling spurs
Across the canyons ring
When the cattle bawl their haunting call
These are the sounds of spring

And every spring is round-up time
When cowboys earn their pay
Gathering herds together
And locating every stray

This is a time legends are born
As heroes come to light
In stories cowboys love to tell
Around campfires at night

When cowboys die along the trail
Few monuments are found
They're often buried where they fell
Pushing their herds to town

And though no funeral may prevail
To honor one who rode
New songs and ballads may arise
For that's the cowboy's code

And Mistrels sing in stories true
Plucked on rusty guitars
New tales of cowboy heroes
At rest beneath the stars