You

can

see

the

bear

paws,

the

old

man

on

his

back

Prick-

ly

pears,

a

blue

moon

in

the

short

and

na-

tive

grass

There's

a

bunch

of

emp-

ty

beer

cans

in

an

old,

loose

mi-

ne-

ral

sack

Give

you

some

i-

dea

of

where

you're

at

Buck

brush

and

sage

far

as

you

can

see

It's

the

south

slopes

of

the

hills

and

turns

to

pines

and

pop-

lar

trees

Cat-

tle

all

gra-

zin'

up

and

down

a

big

cou-

lee

Un-

der

Char-

ley

Rus-

sel

skies

like

a

blue

and

pur-

ple

sea

Cyp-

ress

Hills

and

the

big

count-

ry

be-

low

Where

life

is

still

and

a

man

can

be

a-

lone

And

you

can

duck

un-

der-

neath

all

your

trials

and

trou-

bles

for

a

time

Like

a

prong-

horn

un-

der-

neath

a

bot-

tom

wire

Cyp-

ress

Hills

and

the

big

count-

ry

be-

low

Where

life

is

still

and

a

man

can

be

a-

lone

You

can

duck

un-

der-

neath

all

your

trials

and

trou-

bles

for

a

time

Like

a

prong-

horn

un-

der-

neath

a

bot-

tom

wire

You

can

sweat

and

cuss

and

won-

der

why

They

say

our

west

has

died

When

the

folks

a-

round

the

Cyp-

ress

Hills

Still

drag

calves

to

the

fire