It was a dainty little town, yes,
Sleepy and calm,
With a happy river tumbling along
Nipping playfully at its feet.
And you could go to the salon
For a spot of beer sometimes,
Or better, lie in the sunny meadow
With hat covering smiling face,
Head resting on sweetheart’s softest lap.
But maybe the Town of Love
Ain’t where a cowboy lives long,
But has to leave his heart behind,
And hit the dusty, parched trail.
For it’s not in the guitar
Or in the Colt or the tireless horse,
But in the endless blue blue sky,
That the soul of a cowboy lies,
And where it slowly slowly heals.