Thundering herds of the handsomest wranglers
The prettiest shirts, the flashiest duds
The tallest boots and the shiniest silver
Swirling and twirling and winking at me
I’ve lived for a week on nothing but talking
Coffee and whiskey and dancing good-looking
Canadian cowboys and bold buckaroos
And high plains waddies with flashing buckles
And southwestern punchers and mountain twisters
And more of those sweet-talking, two-stepping fools
All laughing and singing and dancing and milling
Around in the thundering herd
That’s…held by the lure of the poetic word
The guitar pickers, the old song singers
And the soul mates gathered
In one Amazingly
Magical
Gigantic
Herd
