Biografia:
Don Edwards (born March 20, 1939 in Boonton, New Jersey) is a cowboy singer and guitarist who performs Western music. He has recorded several albums, two of which, Saddle Songs and Songs of the Cowboy, are included in the Folklore Archives of the Library of Congress. Edwards also recorded the album High Lonesome Cowboy with Peter Rowan and Tony Rice.
Don Edwards left home when he was 16 to work on Texas oil fields and experience the western life.
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Outras músicas:
Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
[Verse]
D
Some folks like the city
Em
Grass thats curried smooth and green
A7
Theaters and stranglin collars
D
Wagons run by gas olene
But for me its hawse and saddle
Em
Everyday without a change
A7
And the dessert sun a blazin
D
On a hundred miles of range
G A7
Just a ridin, a ridin
D Em
Dessert riplin in the sun.................
G Em
Mountains blue along the skyline
A7 D
I don't envey anyone when I'm riden
When my feet is in my stirrups
Em
And my hawse is on the bust
A7
With his hooves a flashin lightnin
D
In a cloud of golden dust
And the bawl-in of the cattle
Em
Is a com-in down the wind
A7
Then a finer life than riden
D
Would be mighty hard to find
G A7
Just a ridin, a ridin
D Em
Spittin long cracks thru the air.............
G Em
Stirrin up a baby cyclone
A7 D
Rippin up the prickly pear when I'm ridin
I don't need no art exhibits
Em
When the sunset does her best
A7
Painting ever-lasting glory
D
On the moun-tains to the west
And your opry sounds so foolish
Em
When the night-bird starts his tune
A7
And the desserts silver mounted
D
By the touches of the moon
G A7
Just a ridin, a ridin
D Em
Who can envy kings and czars..............
G Em
When the coyotes down the valley
A7 D
Are a singin to the stars when i'm ridin
When my last long trail is ended
Em
And my final bacons curled
A7
And the last great roundups finished
D
At the home ranch of the world
I don't want no harps nor halos
Em
Robes nor other dressed up things
A7
Just let me ride the starry ranges
D
On a spotted horse with wings
G A7
Just a ridin, a ridin
D Em
Nothin I'd like half so well..............
G Em
As a roundin up the sinners
A7 D
That have wondered out of hell and a ridin,
Just a ridin
D
Some folks like the city
Em
Grass thats curried smooth and green
A7
Theaters and stranglin collars
D
Wagons run by gas olene
But for me its hawse and saddle
Em
Everyday without a change
A7
And the dessert sun a blazin
D
On a hundred miles of range
G A7
Just a ridin, a ridin
D Em
Dessert riplin in the sun.................
G Em
Mountains blue along the skyline
A7 D
I don't envey anyone when I'm riden
When my feet is in my stirrups
Em
And my hawse is on the bust
A7
With his hooves a flashin lightnin
D
In a cloud of golden dust
And the bawl-in of the cattle
Em
Is a com-in down the wind
A7
Then a finer life than riden
D
Would be mighty hard to find
G A7
Just a ridin, a ridin
D Em
Spittin long cracks thru the air.............
G Em
Stirrin up a baby cyclone
A7 D
Rippin up the prickly pear when I'm ridin
I don't need no art exhibits
Em
When the sunset does her best
A7
Painting ever-lasting glory
D
On the moun-tains to the west
And your opry sounds so foolish
Em
When the night-bird starts his tune
A7
And the desserts silver mounted
D
By the touches of the moon
G A7
Just a ridin, a ridin
D Em
Who can envy kings and czars..............
G Em
When the coyotes down the valley
A7 D
Are a singin to the stars when i'm ridin
When my last long trail is ended
Em
And my final bacons curled
A7
And the last great roundups finished
D
At the home ranch of the world
I don't want no harps nor halos
Em
Robes nor other dressed up things
A7
Just let me ride the starry ranges
D
On a spotted horse with wings
G A7
Just a ridin, a ridin
D Em
Nothin I'd like half so well..............
G Em
As a roundin up the sinners
A7 D
That have wondered out of hell and a ridin,
Just a ridin
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