verse 1 He was a good hand breakin’ horses, pure poison with a rope He lives for strong, black coffee and the rollin’ of his smokes He throws a leg up on ol’ Ranger, sticks a rowel into his hide Saddled there in his easy chair, through his memory he still rides verse 2 While shakin’ out a good loop he flicks his ashes on the floor He’s a brandin’ for Sam Williams, who he loved the workin’ for In the air he draws a picture with a cigarette in his hand As his fingers make the last stroke, in the smoke I see the brand Whoopi Ti Yi Yay is not his way, he didn’t choose his line of work There’s no silver on his saddle and no fringe upon his shirt Well, I’d give the world to be like him born 90 years ago ‘Cause when the Master’s hands made this man, He put a cowboy in his soul Break verse 4 In the middle of the story he pushes out of his chair Shuffles out to the barn and hollars me out there He points up to his saddle in that dusty hideaway He says he’d like to give it to me, but he might need it someday Whoopi Ti Yi Yay is not his way, he didn’t choose his line of work There’s no silver on his saddle and no fringe upon his shirt Well, I’d give the world to be like him born 90 years ago ‘Cause when the Master’s hands made this man, He put a cowboy in his soul ‘Cause when the Master’s hands made this man. . . . He put a cowboy in his soul Final Break