A cold, chilly, Oklahoma morning on the range,
They’re out there, men in the saddle doing a job.
It’s their game but taken seriously, roundup,
The horses of many being gathered for home.
Anything can and will happen in a moments notice,
The sky is moving, dark clouds are moving.
There’s a breeze in the air slowly turning to wind,
Heading home are this bunch of cowboys, riding.
The rain begins to fall upon the land, keep moving,
These riders are a bit cold, tough is the thought.
Fright comes to this sea of horses as a rumble,
A clap of thunder echoes in the sky,
A bolt of lightning flies far and wide.
Like the wind, the horses run, “stampede”
Frantically they run until it’s done, stampede!