An old cowpoke went riding out one hot and windy day,
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way,
When all at once a mighty herd of red-eyed cows he saw,
A plowin through the ragged skies, and up the cloudy draw.
Yip-i-ya-a, Yip-i-ya-o, Ghost riders in the sky.
Their brands were still on fire and their hoofs were made of steel.
Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel.
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky.
For as he saw the riders comin hard, he could hear their mournful...
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