Cowhand’s Last Ride Hank Snow

He was just a Texas cowhand
One that knew his stuff
His eyes were black
His face was tan
His hands were broad and rough

Tough as an old buzzsaw
All the boys stayed shy
For they all knew his aim was true
He'd shoot at the wink of an eye

One night with grass plains around us
He met with a rustlers band
As the flames leaped high on his old camp fire
He fell with a gun in his hand

We rolled out of bed the next morning
We dug a grave in the sand
When we found stretched out on the ground
This brave and lonely cowhand

We buried him on the prairie
Wrapped in an old cowhide
By the light of the moon we wrote on his tomb:
"Another cowhand's last ride"