Yep, there just aren’t many longhorns or buffaloes left out here now. Come join us in our search. We’ll try to round up a few of the strays before the shipping’s all done in the fall.
No One Knows Where the Longhorn Goes
No one knows where the longhorn goes,
When his breed is scattered and few—
He once was king of the cattle ring,
But his time in this world is through.
We all must go where longhorns go,
When the bone moon falls from the sky—
We will not hide when we ride no more
And the longhorn goes off to die.
Our land must be where longhorns live—
Where we all seek our destiny—
This once was land still full of sand
With longhorns far as you could see.
We all must dream what cowboys dreamt
When they looked out upon the West—
We all should lead the life we need
As we follow the trail that’s best.
We all must go where longhorns grazed
On a ride through the green grass sea—
We all must lead and protect our creed—
But most of all, we should be free.
The path is hard, but we will climb
Up that hill where the longhorn goes—
Though the trail is long, it is not wrong,
When we know what the longhorn knows.