CRUSTY OL' BUZZARD

I'm a crusty ol' buzzard who hails from Cheyenne;
and it's broke and it's hungry and tired that I am.
I'm here in New York and it all seems so strange,
that I find myself missin' hard times on the range.

I chased all m' dreams through the streets of New York
till they was all bruised and  broke up.
But dawn has arrived and the sun's peepin' through;
and this cowboy's done gone and woke up.

There's a freight train a' comin'. It's headin' out West.
I ain't one t' give up, but sometimes it's best.
This ol' man is  lonely. My dreams are all gone...
the same as my money...and time's  rollin' on.

So I've packed  my guitar and sang my last songs.
New York City ain't the place where this cowpoke belongs.
I'm a crusty ol' buzzard; and buzzards do best
a circlin' the ranges way out in the west.

Bette Wolf Duncan
copyright2000