One Empty Cot In The Bunkhouse

There’s one empty cot in the bunkhouse

There’s a saddle that nobody rides

One empty place at the table

The remuda is five horses shy

We turned his string out to pasture

He’ll never ride em no more

We buried him out on the hillside last Sunday

Another good cowboys gone home

From a farm back in east Tennessee

And all of his life he just wanted to cowboy

He came west to fulfill his dream

That was forty some odd years ago

And in breaking the bad ones he´s the best that we´ve seen

One hell of a hand with a rope

That´s the day that the boss lady died

You could tell by the way he´d treat people and horses

He’d made his own deal with his God

There’s a saddle that nobody rides

One empty place at the table

The remuda is five horses shy

He would if he’s ask to of course

Then he swore that there’s nothing in life that’s worth doing

If it can’t be done from a horse

How to tell a good horse by his eye

How to watch in the roundup when a cow´s on the price

She’s hiding her baby nearby

We´re not ready to admit that he´s gone

His cot roll is laying across the foot of his bed

His leggings still hang on the wall

But there’s one empty cot in the bunkhouse

There’s a saddle that nobody rides

One empty place at the table

The remuda is five horses shy