In a dark night
Of terrible weather,
Cruising through the valley
Goes a cowboy on his horse.
Suddenly in the sky he saw
With radiant clarity
A herd of a thousand cows,
Ghosts in droves...
Arre-a-e, arre-a-o
The mournful cry...
The beasts' eyes
Were embers as they gazed,
The hooves of their legs
Sparkled as they walked...
Their tragic roars
Had something hellish about them
Their horns were black
With the glint of metal.
Arre-a-e, arre-a-o
The mournful cry...
Behind the horde
Riding incessantly,
Heavenly horsemen
Trying to catch up to them...
And then the cowboy
All alone heard a voice,
The voice of his conscience
Like a spell:
Arre-a-e, arre-a-o
The mournful cry...
If you want to save your soul
And know what peace is,
You must push away the evil
For your own good...
If not, you must have the strength
To always come from behind,
Hurrying the herd along
For an eternity...
Arre-a-e, arre-a-o
The mournful cry...