(Michael Martin Murphy/Larry Cansler)
|
|
She comes down from yellow mountain
|
On a dark, flat land she rides
|
On a pony she named wildfire
|
With a whirlwind by her side
|
On a cold Nebraska night
|
|
Oh, they say she died one winter
|
And there came a killing frost
|
And the pony she named wildfire
|
Busted down his stall
|
And in a blizzard he was lost
|
|
She ran calling wildfire
|
Calling wildfire
|
Calling wildfire
|
|
By the dark of the moon I planted
|
But there came an early snow
|
There¡¯s been a hoot owl howling by my window now
|
For six nights in a row
|
She¡¯s coming for me I know
|
And on wildfire we¡¯re both gonna go
|
|
We¡¯ll be riding with wildfire
|
Riding with wildfire
|
Riding with wildfire
|
|
On a wildfire we¡¯re gonna ride
|
We¡¯re gonna leave sod bustin¡¯ behind
|
Let these hard times right out if my mind
|
Riding wildfire
|
|
<p align="center"><font size="3"><b><a href="index.htm"><u>
|
|
-----------------
|
Wildfire
|
Tracy Byrd |