My home's in Montana, I wear a bandana, My spurs are of silver, my pony is gray. When out on the ranges , my luck never changes, with foot in my stirrup, I gallop away.
When far from the ranches I cut the pine branches to lay me a bed when the starlight is pale, when I have partaken of beans and of bacon I whistle a merry old tune of the trail.
( two verses is all we know)