The Beartooth's beckon. Spring is near. It's time to pack the camping gear. It's time to spread my wings and soar into those distant peaks once more. Alfalfa gettin heavy, time to cut again.
Horn flies work the roundup, as young bull turns to steer.
Drive a Waddie crazy, flying ear to ear. Eatin your share of horn flies, layin on the brand. Red ants in my sooguns. Someday I think I'll leave the range, to the skeeters, the flies and the sun. Gran's eyes were hard as flint.