The cattle are prowling, the coyotes are howling   Way out where the doggies roam   Where spurs are a jingling, the cowboy is singing   His lonesome cattle call      He rides in the sun   'Til his days work is done   And he rounds up the cattle each fall   Singing his cattle call      For hours he would ride on the range far and wide   When the night wind blows up and slow   His heart is a feather in all kinds of weather   He sings his cattle call      He's browned as a berry   From riding the prairie   And he sings with an old western drawl   Singing his cattle call