Every day at sundown he rides fences
Checking gates and stretching barbwire
And after all the holes are mended
He lays his head back on his saddle by a fire
Sounds like eighteen eighty-nine
Listening to the coyote cry
Somewhere under that moon tonight
There’s still a few cowboys left
For all the strays that ain’t been roped
All the broncs that ain’t been broke
For all the west that ain’t been won yet
Therе’s still a few cowboys left
Therе’s still a few girls out there that want one, yeah
The dirt on his neck, rough edges and all
Is sometimes hard to love, but he won’t run
That bottle by the bed, whiskey on his breath
Boots on the floor and hat hanging on the wall
Sounds like eighteen eighty-nine
Listening to the coyote cry
Somewhere under that moon tonight
There’s still a few cowboys left
For all the strays that ain’t been roped
All the broncs that ain’t been broke
For all the west that ain’t been won yet
There’s still a few cowboys left
Still a few cowboys
For all the strays that ain’t been roped
All the broncs that ain’t been broke
All the songs that ain’t been wrote yet
There’s still a few cowboys left
Thank God there’s still a few cowboys