The wide Montana sky draped snow upon the ground
Here he sat his pony with only three steer found
Heavy flakes swirled in the stinging wind
Maybe he will find shelter from it round the bend
The foreman said Smitty bring back all you can find
But mind you watch the weather for sign
So here he is with just three old steers
Wishin he was in town having a luke warm beer
These Montana winters can really be cold
Sucking the heat right out of your soul
The numbing cold, achin fingers and toes
Have to keep ridin forgetting his woe's
Around the bend pines block the wind
Tonight the bunk house stove will be his friend
Shorty and old Tom will have it so warm
Like the heat from a woman's scorn
Should turn back before the storm grows
But this old horse Buster, the way home he knows
Keep goin maybe more steers on down this trail
Come spring that's money at the rail
That night Shorty and Old Tom were alone
Wonderin why Smitty hadn't found his way home
It was early spring when they found him down in a draw
Buster on his side and Smitty still sittin the saddle tall
They buried him there just where he lay
Said a prayer on that early spring day
Just another poor old cowboy crossed to God's range
Nothin to show but a saddle, boots and some pocket change
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