while drivin a herd of cattle out in old nebraska way headin east at broken bow one hot september day tryin to get to omaha we hoped to find a buyer we never counted in the odds of a western prairie fire a hot south wind was blowin and the air was gettin dry somethin far away was spellin trouble in the sky comin closer was a sound that topped the devil s choir then we knew we had to race a raging prairie fire when all at once a flame is seen a lickin at the sky and every heart is quicker and there s fear in every eye we d just one chance to get away for there s no place to hide gotta reach the river platte one inch deep and one mile wide the herd is gettin tired but we ve got no time to rest i try to clear the red dust that is gatherin in my chest from ridin tail on a thousand head with the weather gettin dry the black cloud in the west is warning ride ride ride the roarin heat is closer ashes fallin by our side and every breeze is burnin singin with its warnin cry we ve got to reach the river but it s still ten miles or more and close behind us we can hear that wind infernal roar but fate had other plans for we lost that fatal race we lost for neither man nor beast could long keep up the pace the mighty platte subdued its rage but none were there to rest we did our best to get away but only i am left now on the blackened prairie far as the eye can see the grim remains are there to show that god rules you and me just one he left to tell the tale just one was his desire we lost our herd and thirty men to a raging prairie fire