An old cowpoke went riding out one dark and windy day;
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way,
When all at once a mighty herd of red-eyed cows he saw,
A-plowin' through the ragged skies and up a cloudy draw.
Yip-pie-ya-aye, yip-pie-yi-o, ghost riders in the sky.
Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel,
Their horns wuz black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel;
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky,
For he saw the riders comin' hard and he heard their mournful cry.
Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred,
Their shirts all soaked with sweat;
They're ridin' hard to catch that herd, but they ain't caught 'em yet;
They've got to ride forever in that range up in the sky,
On horses snortin' fire, as they ride on, hear their cry.
As the riders loped on by him, he heard one call his name;
"If you want to save your soul from hell a' ridin' on our range,
Then cowboy change your ways today or with us you will ride,
A-tryin' to catch the Devil's herd across these endless skies."
Ghost riders in the sky.