The moon hung low like a cowgirl's jeans on a drunken Saturday night,
The stars shone bright like a cowboy's eyes before a barroom fight.
Across the range came a sound that was plain,
To a rider's experienced ear;
A sound so loud that it shook the ground,
And made a cowboy shake with fear.
A sound worse than a herd of stampeding cows and their thundering hooves,
A sound that chilled a cowpoke's heart,a sound he dreaded to hear,
" Sorry,boys,bar's closed,we're all out of beer"
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