Sage Brush Sea

Out in the short grass country, out where the greasewood grows,

Out where the coyotes holler, out where the blizzard blows,

That is the place I’m seeking, that is the land for me,

Riding a-straddle a cowpunch saddle over the sagebrush sea.

Out in the short grass country, out on the mesa brown,

Far from the rush and worry, far from the haunts of town,

Where is serene and quiet, restful and calm and free,

Riding a-straddle a cowpunch saddle over the sagebrush sea.

Out in the short grass country, out where your pals are true,

Drinking the glorious sunshine under the skies of blue,

Out of your tarp at daylight, frisky as you can be,

Riding a-straddle a cowpunch saddle over the sagebrush sea.

Out in the short grass country, out where there’s room to spare,

Out where no smoke’s polluting the fresh-blown prairie air,

Out where no streetcars bother, out where you’re safe and free,

Riding a-straddle a cowpunch saddle over the sagebrush sea.

Out in the short grass country, partner, ain’t it fine?

Living in perfect freedom out where the air’s like wine.

Nothing, you bet, can beat it. Life is a jubilee,

Riding a-straddle a cowpunch saddle over the sagebrush sea.

It may be possible to find the complete recording by the Sons of the Pioneers.

Go to our Discography pages for guidance or write us.

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For permission to record Bob Nolan's music, contact: The Songwriter’s Guild of America