Brenn Hill One Empty Cot In The Bunkhouse
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
