"Ghost Riders in the Sky" by Stan Jones
An [Em]old cowpoke went riding out one
[G]hot and windy day,
U[Em]pon a ridge he rested as he [G]went
along his [B7]way,
When [Em]all at once a mighty herd of
red-eyed cows he saw,
A-[Am]plowin' through the ragged skies,
and [Em]up the cloudy draw.
riders in the [Em]sky.
Their [Em]brands were still on fire
and their [G]hoofs were made of steel.
Their [Em]horns were black and shiny and
their [G]hot breath he could [B7]feel.
A [Em]bolt of fear went through him as
they thundered through the sky.
For [Am]as he saw the riders comin' hard,
he could [Em]hear their mournful cry.
Their [Em]face were gaunt, their eyes
were blurred, their [G]shirts all soaked
They're [Em]riding hard to catch that
herd, but [G]they ain't caught him [B7]yet.
They've [Em]got to ride forevermore on
the range up in the sky,
On [Am]horses snorting fire and as they [Em]ride,
I hear them cry.
And [Em]as the riders loped on by he [G]heard
one call his name,
If [Em]you want to save your soul from
hell a-[G]ridin' on the [B7]range,
Then [Em]cowboy better change your ways
or with us you will ride,
Try[Am]ing to catch the devil's herd a[Em]cross
the endless skies.