That’s How It Is on the Range

Have you ever wanted to sleep in a shallow cave where the ancients camped and look out at a flashing desert rainstorm? The spirits still reside in windswept expanses where little but the elements pass by. I’ve been there.

Hal, guitar and lead vocal; Phillip, piano, vocal; Kate, violin, vocal; Flavia, violin; Charlotte, oboe; Harold, bass

The antelope leaps, the hoot owls asleep           
Then he wonders through, that  all                       
Clouds race by, smell rain but its dry                       
That's how it is on the range                                   
    
Silence is king, every sound rings
Even his own darn whistle                                   
But mostly it's still and that's all that fills           
The air as he rides on the range           


Jack rabbit darts, blue grouse starts
The roll of some distant thunder
It won't stay long, Its moving along
That's how it is on the range
That's how it is on the range

He's searching around, then catches the sound
The lilt of a laughing woman
He listens again, then sees that sage hen
He shivers and knows he’s alone


Dark clouds roll in, its darker than sin
He heads for a rock overhang
The rain comes down fast but he knows it won't last
That's how it is on the range
That's how it is on the range

He finds what is left of a camp in the cleft
A campfires ancient reminder
He sifts through the sand, finds prints from small hands
Lays shards out, then leaves them behind

Life is so rare, but persistent out there
The desert is open and true
We make a small mark, then fade in the dark
That's how it is on the range
That's how it is on the range
That's how it is on the range

© Hal Cannon 2011, H Random Music, ASCAP