The Gather
The sun is peekin' over the ridge
The air is crisp and the sky is big
Leaves are fallin', the cattle are bawlin'
Ridin' out on the gather
A cowdog is creepin' with his head slung low
Hooves are squeekin' on the fresh fallen snow
Morning is breakin' and my soul is awakened
Ridin out on the gather
My pockets are empty but I don't care
I know that I'm winning when I'm out there
Where the magpies are talkin' in the cottonwood trees
And the river is tickled by a cool northern breeze
I'm floatin' like a feather when I'm sittin on the leather
Ridin out on the gather
Writer/s: WYLIE GUSTAFSON
