All the cattle are lowin' , on a hard wood range.
Neon lights are glowin', on a bumpin' grindin' disco plane.
In a real estate suit and cowboy boots, he's gonna rope and ride and shoot.
Down at that cowboy singles bar.
Down at that cowboy singles bar.
Band, it's a DJ, talkin' jive all night.
Spinin' them platters, jerkin' the lights.
She wears forty dollar denim jeans, that form the subject of his dreams.
Down at that cowboy singles bar.
Down at that cowboy singles bar.
Whoopie-tie-yi-yo, come on do the cotten-eyed joe.
Whoopie-tie-yi-yea, you know they shore' like to hear old Conway Twitty.
He's a one night stand star, she's a walkin' talkin' Barbie Doll.
Down at that cowboy singles bar.
Down at that cowboy singles bar.
In a three piece suit and cowboy boots, he's suave and debonaire like old Fred Astaire.
And she looks like Dolly Parton in a place or two,
Down at that cowboy singles bar.
Whoopie-tie-yi-yo, hey, where did Poncho and Cisco go?
Where's that old Red Rider now and Zorro and Lash LaRue?
Well you can see 'em any Saturday night when they close down the bar and turn up the lights,
Down at that cowboy singles bar.
Down at that cowboy singles bar. (repeat to end)
© 2004 Carl Hutchens