He rides across the wind-swept prairie,
His horse is brown, his gait is airy.
His hat upon his fair young head
Shadows the face of comely Ned.
The sky is dark on a stormy day
As he heads above the prairie hay.
The mountains loom like shadows tall,
As if to break before they fall.
He passes trees, tall and dark,
Mysterious as the morning lark.
The snow upon the top glistens,
Even as he will pause to listen.
The grass beneath him crunches aloud,
As the frost makes them appear cowed.
The stream is trickles
Through snow-fed ripples
As though it were afraid.
The cowboy climbs the plains up high
Before he reaches the top,
He turns around
Gives a shake of his hand,
And he glides away from sight.