Song of the Vaqueros
(Bob Nolan)
We are the Vaqueros!
We ride that the West we love will live evermore
A strong horse beneath us as they did long before.
‘Twas good for old Bill Cody and it’s good enough for me
For we are the Vaqueros!
The open plains, the summer range, the foothill lanes,
The wagon trains, where nothing changes
We will live and die.
For we are the Vaqueros!
He [indicating stout man] should be a Vaquero
And sleep where his blanket is the star-studded sky
And eat where the cactus coals his bacon will fry.
Living in the open ought to do him lots of good.
For he should be a Vaquero!
He never gets out; he’s lame, no doubt,
He’s got the gout, he’s much too stout.
What do you think we ought to do?
Why, he should be a Vaquero!
[Roy measures the stout man’s chest] 32! [then measures waist] 44!
And in a little while it may be more.
Why, he should be a vaquero!
[measures Bob’s chest] 44! [measures Bob’s waist] 32!
We’ll have him looking just like you.
When he is a Vaquero.
The song was never commercially recorded.
For
permission to record Bob Nolan's music, contact:
The
Songwriter’s Guild of America