Timothy Treadwell (1953-2003)

As a cowboy i knew in south texas
his face was burnt deep by the sun
part history, part sage, part mexican
he was there poncho villa was young
and he'd tell you a tale of the old days
when the country was wild all around
sit out under the stars of the milky way
and listen while the coyotes howl

they go: woo yip whoo yip woo

now the longhorns are gone
and the drovers are gone
the commanchees are gone
and the outlaws are gone
gernomino's gone
and sandbass is gone
and the lion is gone
and the redwolf is gone

well he cursed all the roads in the old land

and he cursed the automobiles
said this is no place for an hombre like i am
in this new world of asphalt and steel
then he'd look off someplace in the distance
at something only he could see
he'd say all thats left now is the old days
damned old coyotes and me

they'd go:woo yip whoo yip woo

now the longhorns are gone
and the drovers are gone
the commanchees are gone
and the outlaws are gone
now quantro's gone
san wantee is gone
and the lion is gone
and the redwolf is gone

one morning they searched his adobe
he dissapeared without even word
but that night as the moon crossed the mountain
one more coyote was heard

and he'd go:woo yip whoo yip woo