He's a modern day cowboy
Drinking beer in a bar with rap
He rode up in a sixty-seven mustang
Wearing jeans made by the Gap

Never says a word to no one
If he does it's only to mumble
He drinks his beer by the hours
The barkeep can only grumble

From time to time on occasion
A female patron has been known to try
To get him to open up
But they get nothing whenever they pry

The tags on his car read 1998 from Texas
It's full of everything he owns
His head is full of tumbleweeds
On the road is where he calls home

There are no rings round any of his fingers
No necklace around his tight tanned throat
He orders another Lone Star beer
He's actually from Terre Haute