Out where the handclasp’s a little stronger, Out where the smile dwells a little longer, That’s where the West begins. - Arthur Chapman

It's hard to think that in cities there's men who are goin' to mad,
Each strivin' to beat his fellows and get what the others had;
And from this here peaceful viewpoint, such doin's look bad, plum bad.

He is the last of that old guard defending Cattle Land,
Those knights who jousted for the cause — blood brothers of the brand;
But now they’ve fenced the water-hole, they’re harrowing the plain,
They’re changing all the sagebrush flats to fields of waving grain;
The cowmen will be gone, they say, and there are no recruits —
Good-bye, brave cattle-puncher in the high-heeled boots!

There ain't no leaves to turn to gold—
There ain't a tree in sight—
In other ways the herder's told
October's come, all right.