In a lobby of a big hotel in New York town one day,
Sat a bunch of fellows telling yarns to pass the time away.
They told of places where they`d been and all the sights they`d seen,
And some of them praised Chicago town and others New Orleans.
I can see the cattle grazing o`er the hills at early morn;
I can see the camp-fires smoking at the breaking of the dawn,
I can hear the broncos neighing I can hear the cowboys sing;
Oh I`d like to be in Texas for the round-up in the spring.
In a corner in an old arm chair sat a man whose hair was gray,
He had listened to them longingly, to what they had to say.
They asked him where he`d like to be and his clear old voice did ring:
"I`d like to be in Texas for the round-up in the spring.
| They all sat still and listened to each word he had to say;
They knew the old man sitting there had once been young and gay.
They asked him for a story of his life out on the plains,
He slowly then removed his hat and quietly began:
"Oh, I`ve seen them stampede o`er the hills,
when you`d think they`d never stop,
I`ve seen them run for miles and miles until their leader dropped,
I was foreman on a cowranch-that`s the calling of a king;
I`d like to be in Texas for the round-up in the spring."
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