I've been riding fence all day,

Way up on the summer range.

Found a place to make my bed

As the evening shadows spread

Beyond the campfire light,

In the stillness of night,

Came the call of a coyote choir,

And the song

Of the wind in the wire.



As it strummed the rusted strings,

It sang of long-forgotten things.

Many moons and many suns

Of the real Americans.

When the arrow and the bow

Stalked the range

Of the buffalo,

And the call of the coyote choir

Knew no song

Of the wind in the wire.



As the ghostly balladeer

Hypnotized me, I could hear

Bugle calls, and battle cries.

Broken promises and lies.

The spirits of the plain

Still sing their sad refrain

In the call of the coyote choir

And the song

Of the wind in the wire.