When the Bloom is on the Sage
For most people there's a spot that lives forever,
Deep within their fondest memories.
Tho' I have been a rover I have never
Seen anyplace that I would rather be than---
When it's roundup time in Texas and the bloom is on the sage
How I long to be in Texas just a ridin' on the range
I can smell the bacon frying, hear it sizzlin' in the pan,
Hear the breakfast horn in the early morn drinkin' coffee from a can.
Just a ridin', rockin', ropin', poundin' leather all day long,
Just a seatin', swearin', smokin', listen to a cowboy song.
Though I know I'll never go there, I would work for any wage,
To be again, be free again, where the bloom is on the sage.
When it's roundup time in Texas and the bloom is on the sage,
How I long to be in Texas just a ridin' on the range.
Those purple hills are calling, calling to me from afar,
I'm back again to the Rio Grande and the lonely Texas star.
How I long to be living where the prairie flowers grow,
I'd be willing to start walking to the place that I love so.
It beacons and I reckon I would work for any wage,
To be again, be free again, where the bloom is on the sage.
Gladys loves to sing this song.
Today Thane and Sandy are coming over for dinner. Dick has made pot roast
salad, lemon marangue pie and is contemplating cinnamon rolls for good measure.
Its a sunny 25 degrees at the moment and Gladys is headed for
her bath.
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