the sun burns the snow high on the mountains it runs and it grows as it falls silt and soil down it boils down to the valleys the gold river rolls to the plains the rangeland lies high up from the river the coulees are dry where the short grass grows fields of hay cottonwood shade green patch of home through the high dusty land a river flows early evening light boys practice roping the days fades away the night rolls on lives of pride men who ride they keep the old skills that came up the trail from mexico the long river winds through green years and dry years brand em in the spring ship em in the fall a new colt foal the mare grows old cycle of changes in this changeless land where the short grass grows  in this changeless land where the short grass grows