A calvery song

The sun burns low on the mesa high,

Where the cavalry banners still wave in the sky.

Boots in the stirrups, sabers so bright,

We rode through the canyons into the night.

The telegraph hummed with a ghostly sound,

Echoes of battles lost and found.

Sergeant called muster by the fire’s light,

Promised we’d ride till the dawn broke white.

Oh, the wind it whispers through the sage,

Carrying tales from a bygone age.

Every shadow hides a story untold,

Of riders so brave and hearts so bold.

Riders of the sunset plains,

Through the dust and the desert rains.

With a harmonica’s lonesome cry,

We’ll ride till the last light dies.

The old fort crumbles by the Rio Grande,

Where the outlaws made their final stand.

We chased ‘em down through the rattler’s den,

Never to see those hills again.

The colonel’s daughter waved us farewell,

Her voice like a hymn, her eyes a spell.

She swore she’d wait till the war was done,

But the war never ends under this sun.

Oh, the wind it whispers through the sage,

Carrying tales from a bygone age.

Every shadow hides a story untold,

Of riders so brave and hearts so bold.

Riders of the sunset plains,

Through the dust