The cowboy hangs his hat beside the fire
The endless sky’s split open turning red
Strange dreams of impossible desire
A rustle wakes the buckaroo with dread
Moonlight reveals a mean and lissome man
A gruff voice, “Boy I reckon that you’re mine.”
Scramblin’, his sixer slips out of his hand
The boy’s caught in his lasso, dark eyes shine
Tied up he’s feelin’ queer, like too much sun
His captor, right behind him smells of smoke
He presses into the outlaw’s sixgun
The outlaw, flustered, wrangles his cowpoke
Now they’re in for quite a long, hot ride
A wanted man, a cowboy as his bride
