Son, let me tell you a story about way back when
It was never hard to find real men.
When large herds of cattle moved from here to there
And drovers came from everywhere.

Some were cowboys, some wanted by the law.
They were real men, one and all.
How Indians and Outlaws followed the herd
And either would kill you with nary a word

About the wind that blew across the plain,
And the bitter, cold driving rain.
About the dust when it rained no more,
How it dried your mouth 'till your throat was sore.

How water couldn't be found.
How the sun dried the holes and cracked the ground.
About the strays we could never find,
The cowboys and cattle we left behind.

The songs we sung and the stories we told
When the day was through and the night was cold.
That's the way it was back when,
The west was full of "Real Men."