Here I am,
In a long, low, valley,
On a horse, under sweltering sky.

A single trail runs East to West,
As far as the eye can see.

The sheep-skin bags,
Strung low off the saddle,
Are empty.

Bandits rode into town last week,
And made off with a couple of dreams,

Now I must know,
Which way to go,

I am the Sheriff,
The dream-catcher.