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

He came on a train to west Texas

From a farm back in east Tennessee

All he wanted outa life was to cowboy

He came west to full fill his dream

He got his first job on the sixes

That was forty some odd years ago

He was the best we ever saw with the bad ones

One hell of a hand with a rope

I saw him just one time in service

It was the day that the boss lady died

You could tell by the way, he handled people and horses

He'd made his own deal with his God

Now 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

He hated to fence and dig post holes

He would if he's ask to of course

Then he'd swear how theres nothin in life thats worth doin

If it can't be done from a horse

He taught me how to top out the bad ones

How to tell a good horse from his eye

How to watch on the roundup when a cows on the prod

Shes hidin her baby nearby

Well we ain't changed a thing in the bunkhouse

We ain't ready to admit that he's gone

His hot roll still lays across the foot of his bed

His leggins 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