Tyson / Fricker

The sun burns the snow, high on the mountains
It runs and it grows as it falls.
Silt and soil, down it boils
Down to the valleys
The gold river rolls
To the plains

The range land lies high, up on th river.
The coolies are dry where the short grass grows
Fields of hay, cottonwood shade,
Green patch of hoce
Through the high dusty land
The river flows

Early evening light, boys practice roping.
The day fades away, the night rolls on.
Lives are pride, men who ride,
They keep the old skills
That came up the trail
From Mexico

[break]

The long river winds through green years abd dry years.
Brand 'emin the spring; ship 'em in the fall.
A new cold foaled, the mare grows old,
Cycle of changes
In this changless land
Where the short grass grows

Cycle of changes
In this changless land
Where the short grass grows