Over The Hill

Not riding rodeo any more done had my fill, no more wild-Cowboying I'm over the hill- No more bucking broncs nor crazy stories to tell, the wild-west is finished and gone all to hell- The horses and cattle have moved along, old Buffalo Bill and Sitting Bull are dead and gone- The leather's worn off the tree, and the same could be said about an old Cowpoke like me- Buffalo bones are bleaching in the prairie sun, there's no more bullets for my old gun- I lost more than a spur and my old hat in the last go round, looking back, there's a lot of dust still falling to the ground- On the stellar-scale of gumption and drive, it's no small wonder I'm even still here, alive- Time to pack my old pickup truck and pull my hat down low, find something softer to do and somewhere gentler to go- For an old Cowboy who's overpaid his bill, there's no need looking back just keep riding, over the hill-