Don Edwards - Minstrel of the Range lyrics

See him out there a-ranging along A solitary rider from out of the pa** Riding and singing all by himself Of the old singing cowboys he may be the last With a worn bag of songs, a worn out guitar He chases the sundown and sings to the stars And listen to him singing his melancholy string He's a wandering minstrel of the range A lone drifting rider just traveling along Don't care where he's going, don't care where he's been The rhythm of his song is the gate of his horse And he tunes his guitar to the wind And he rather be singing to the cattle at night Feel the warmth of the campfire, the cold city lights And he don't really care about fortune and fame Just a traveling minstrel of the range Now the range is a-changing into neon at nights Folks have lost touch with the land And they may tap their feet to some old cowboy's song But mostly they don't understand The feeling you get from a campfire's warm glow As the plaintive notes of his song softly flow Songs about cowboys and horses and trains He's a vanishing minstrel of the range