(Ed Bruce - Ron Peterson) This is the last cowboy song The end of a hundred year waltz The music is sad as they're singing along Another piece of America's lost. He rides a feed lot and clerks in a market On weekends selling tobacco and beer His days're spent surrounded by fences But he'll dream tonight of when fences weren't here. The Old Chisholm Trail is covered by concrete They truck 'em to market in fifty foot rigs They blow by his market never slowing to reason Like living and dying was all he did. This is the last cowboy song The end of a hundred year waltz The music is sad as they're singing along Another piece of America's lost. This is the last cowboy song The end of a hundred year waltz The music is sad as they're singing along Another piece of America's lost. This is the last cowboy song...
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