Out on the range where the buffalo roam,
Cowboys and cowgirls, they call it home.
Leather boots worn, hats tipped to the sky,
They ride with a purpose, under the wide-open eye.

The cattle graze, the dust it flies,
As the sun beats down from the endless skies.
Rugged hands, weathered faces tell no lies,
Life on the ranch, where the old West never dies.

""Ride, cowboy, ride,"" through the break of dawn,
""Work, cowgirl, work,"" until the day is gone.
With lassos spinning and horses neighing,
It's the ranch life we're praising.

The campfire's glow, stories unfold,
Of rodeos won and hearts that hold.
Resilient souls, with dreams as vast,
As the prairies they roam, untamed and vast.

The barn dance calls, fiddles sing,
Cowgirls whirl, their spurs they ring.
Cowboys tip their hats, offer a hand,
In this timeless dance, they take a stand.

Under the stars, they find their peace,
In the quiet of nature, all worries cease.
The coyotes howl, the night birds call,
On the ranch, there's a place for all.

The horizon calls, to the brave and the bold,
Where the stories of cowboys and cowgirls are told.
With every sunrise, they honor the land,
A bond unbroken, by time's shifting sand.

So here's to the cowboys, the cowgirls too,
To the ranch life, honest and true.
May their legacy live, wild and free,
In the heart of the country, where they're meant to be.