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I've been riding fence all day, Way up on the summer range. Found a place to make my bed As the evening shadows spread Beyond the campfire light, In the stillness of night, Came the call of a coyote choir, And the song Of the wind in the wire. As it strummed the rusted strings, It sang of long-forgotten things. Many moons and many suns Of the real Americans. When the arrow and the bow Stalked the range Of the buffalo, And the call of the coyote choir Knew no song Of the wind in the wire. As the ghostly balladeer Hypnotized me, I could hear Bugle calls, and battle cries. Broken promises and lies. The spirits of the plain Still sing their sad refrain In the call of the coyote choir And the song Of the wind in the wire.