When the boy was no more than a shaver His man told many a tale How his great grandad used to go drovin' Back and forth on the oachezown trail Now you might say the boy got infected By a fantasy of the old west For his heart and his soul got connected To a spirit that won't let him rest
Chorus Now he don't wear spurs that go jingle He don't spend his nights 'round a fire He lifts diesel oil that is horses required But he is a latter day cowboy Dressed as a truck drivin' man Drivin' his wheels and his dreams to cheyenne
He beds down by the side of the highway At the sight of the first evenin' star In the darkness his big pony idles As he quietly strums his guitar And he sings out a song of his sweetheart Even as her sweet memory grows dim And he sings of the trail he has chosen But the actual fact is the trail chose him
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