When I was but a small boy
Father bought me many books
'Bout the creatures of the river banks
And the sins of old sea cooks
But the ones I never left behind
With the thoes long forgotten games
Were the tales of wild and windy slopes
By the man they call Will James

The living of his cowboy dreams
Or so it seemed to me
The perfect combination
Riding high and livin' free
His heros were his horses
And he drew them clear and true
And on every page they'd come alive
And they'd jump straight out at you

His race towards the sunset
Was the high and lonesome kind
Like the coyote always looking back
He left no tracks behind
So I've memorized those pictures boys
They're still the very best
If whiskey was his mistress
Then his true love was the west

I remember up on Dead Man's Creek
Back thirty years or more
I hired out to breaking colts
Which I'd never done before
A city kid I asked myself
Now "What would Will James do?"
And you know it was the damnest thing
But it kind of got me through

His race towards the sunset
Was the high and lonesome kind
Like the coyote always looking back
He left no tracks behind
I've memorized those pictures boys
They're still the very best
If whiskey was his mistress
Then his true love was the west

And his race towards the sunset
Was the high and lonesome kind
Like the coyote always looking back
He left no tracks behind
So I've memorized those pictures boys
They're still the very best
If whiskey was his mistress
Then his true love was the west
If whiskey was his mistress
Then his true love was the west