Vaquero Song Lyrics

The vaqueros

Sittin' on the backside

Of the train

Sippin' their

Country Cosmopolitans

Of whiskey and beer

Letting out wide beads

Of laughter

Each has a pistol

To his waist

I can see it, clear

But they're the best storytellers

I've come across

In all my years

The death of the old man

The best country singer

The best gunslinger

In Mexico land

We'll see him off

To a fitting end

A funeral dirge

Playing over his head

With a bandana on

Sittin' in my corner

I document

Disorder

I bring the glass

Half full to my

Lips and drink

From it

My cowboy hat

Made of straw

Hangs over my eyes

And my soul

I'll pluck these strings

'Til I'm dead

Like this old man, here

May he rest