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One night while I was out ridin' the graveyard shift, midnight 'til dawn,
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The moon was bright as a reading light for a letter from an old friend back home,
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And he asked me "Why do you ride for your money? Tell me, why do you rope for short pay?
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You ain't gettin' nowhere and you're losin' your sha-a-are.
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Boy, you must have gone crazy out there."
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He said "Last night I run into Jenny. She's married and has a good life.
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Boy, you sure missed the track when you never came back.
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She's the perfect professional's wife.
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'And she asked me, 'Why does he ride for his money? And tell me why does he rope for short pay?
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He ain't gettin' nowhere and he's losin' his sha-a-re
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Boy, he must've gone crazy out there.'"
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Ah, but they've never seen the Northern Lights; they've never seen a hawk on the wing,
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Never spent spring on the Great Divi-i-ide,
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And they've never heard ol' Camp Cookie sing.