Last Light on the Range

The gavel fell on the final head of cattle

The old man stood and watched his history go

Fingering a worn-out leather saddle

Underneath the rafters where the cold winds blow

Five generations

on this dust and clay

Five generations

and it slips away (ohhh)

But look at the sunset gold across the plain

Every fence line remembers our family name

We may pack up the house but we keep the flame

Five generations of pride

The barn is empty now,

the dust has settled down

My grandson took my hand and looked me in the eye

He said 'Grandpa, I will buy back this ground

I will make these pastures

live before I die'

When the sunset gold shines across the plain

Every fence line remembers our family name

We may pack up the house but we keep the flame

Five generations of pride (five generations of pride!)

We keep the flame...

Yeah, five generations