Tuck was a cowboy I knew years ago,
Could put a stretch in a story like a forty foot row.
Young an' wide-eyed, I believed every word,
As he rambled through the canyons an' stampeded herds.
Swore there were still Comanches in them breaks to the south:
He'd seen good hands ride in there an' never rode out.

He had a horse he called Dollar that twice saved his life.
He lost him to Jim Shoulders playin' poker one night.
When I turned eighteen, I packed up an' left home:
Tuck was pretty old back then an' by now he's long gone.

But I've heard it said that ol' cowboys don't die:
They get put out to pasture way up the sky.
So if God's got a Heaven for old cowboy legends,
I hope the grass is greener on the other side,
An' he's got good horses to ride.

Now the folks back home would tell you Tuck was just crazy an' old.
But I still believe in Conquistadore gold.
An' those memories look like a mirage in the distance,
Starin' out from this prison of urban existence.
So I saddle up an' I go back now an' then,
To remember who I was an' just forget where I am.

Now the concrete an' steel, they spread out like a plague.
Consumin' the rivers, the mountains and the plains.
Then one of these days, it'll all be gone.
But somewhere, that spirit will always live on.

'Cause I've heard it said that ol' cowboys don't die:
They get put out to pasture way up the sky.
So if God's got a Heaven for old cowboy legends,
I hope the grass is greener on the other side,
An' he's got good horses to ride.
Yeah, he's got good horses to ride.
A few good horses to ride.
A few good horses to ride.

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