When I was a young boy on the family farm
I watched my father’s friends come ‘round
They talked together and told the same stories
Horses they’d ridden to money and glory
Wearing hats to the sky and boots to the ground
They had hats to the sky and boots to the ground
They stood ten foot tall, never knew fear
strong as an ox, fast as a deer
Their limps and their scars were carried with pride
each told a story of an eight second ride
Wearing hats to the sky and boots to the ground
They had hats to the sky and boots to the ground
BRIDGE:
Never once did you hear them say
That they ever regretted a single day
Of ridin’ the roads under a desperado moon
They told stories of broncs and old rodeos
Of broken bones and buckles of gold
They lived like the lyrics of a mournful country tune
These days I spend my time sittin’ at the barn
Talking with friends, spinnin’ the yarns
And I’ll often see, off at a distance
A gatherin’ of boys who just sit there n’ listen
To those hats to the sky and boots to the ground
We wear hats to the sky and boots to the ground