There's
one lonesome cowboy
who sits all alone at a table
in the cactus cafe.
His old body worn out,
his bones are all stiff,
and he won't be working today.
His gray mustache stained
from the boulder he smoked,
and in his smoke he smoked away.
His boot heels are worn
from the spurs and the rides
That he made in his younger days
Just an old cowboy,
worn down and broke down
Livin' on hospitality
And he still tips his hat
to the ladies he meets
On the sidewalk and crossing the street
If a dime he could have
for each ride that he'd make
A fine ride he'd ride today
His boots would be shine,
his hat would be clean,
and he wouldn't be in
the Cactus Café.
Drinkin' five -cent coffee,
a dollar day room,
at the cheapest hotel in town.
Where he stares at the ceiling,
the gray walls surround him.
He waits for the sun to go down.
He's just an old cowboy,
born down and broke down,
living on hospitality.
He still tips his hat
to the ladies he meets
On the sidewalk and crossing
the street
He's just an old cowboy
Worn down and broke down
Livin' on hospitality
And he still tips his hat
to the ladies he meets
On the sidewalk and crossin'
the street
There's one lonesome cowboy
at five in the mornin'
Alone in the cactus cafe
There's two kids traveling
north in the morning