| I saw a man on a horse on the 4th of July |
| He was carrying the flag and a 45 on his side |
| I said mister wont you hop down I’ll play you a song |
| It’s the least I can do to maybe help you along |
| It’s a cold damn world and it’s steering us wrong |
| I can sing a little baby that’ll carry a song |
| So when the whiskey dries and the fiddle runs out |
| There’s a jukebox playin' somewhere and I’ll be found |
| Till the sun comes up in the old Big Sky |
| Tip my hat to an outlaw as I’m passing by |
| Cuz they don’t make em like me and mine |
| Just some ramblers on the grind on a lonely road |
| Till the last flame wonders out |
| The guitar makes a final sound |
| And we’re on the go |
| Ya they don’t make em like me and mine |
| Just some ramblers on the grind on a lonely road |
| I saw a lady on the street she was selling a rose |
| She had a pretty bouquet with a ribbon of gold |
| Tip my hat down low as I was fixing to go |
| Flip |
| Cuz they don’t make em like me and mine |
| Just some ramblers on the grind on a lonely road |
| Till the last flame wonders out |
| The guitar makes a final sound |
| And we’re on the go |
| Ya they don’t make em like me and mine |
| Just some ramblers on the grind on a lonely road |
| So when the whiskey dries and the fiddle runs out |
| There’s a jukebox playin' somewhere and I’ll be found |
| Till the sun comes up in the old Big Sky |
| Tip my hat to an outlaw as I’m passing by |
| Cuz they don’t make em like me and mine |
| Just some ramblers on the grind on a lonely road |
| Till the last flame wonders out |
| The guitar makes a final sound |
| And we’re on the go |
| Cuz they don’t make em like me and mine |
| Just some ramblers on the grind on a lonely road |
| Just some ramblers on the grind on a lonely road |