The ranges are covered with a purple gown,
As I ride through the hills today.
The breeze is chilly as the sun goes down,
And we know that Winter's on its way.
When the days grow shorter and the night grows long,
I'll dream beside my campfire then.
Leisurely strummin' on my old guitar,
When the Winter winds are blowin' again.
When the Winter winds are blowin' from the west,
And the pale moon rises over mountain crest.
I'll cover my pony with a rug of fur,
Roll up in my blankets then.
For Summer is over and the nights grow long,
And the Winter winds are blowin' again.
INSTRUMENTAL
The silence is broken by a dingoes call,
Way up in the mountain's high.
The cattle are bedded by the waterfall,
To the rangeland I'll never say goodbye.
When the days grow shorter and the night grows long,
I'll dream beside my campfire then.
Leisurely strummin' on my old guitar,
When the Winter winds are blowin' again.
When the Winter winds are blowin' from the west,
And the pale moon rises over mountain crest.
I'll cover my pony with a rug of fur,
Roll up in my blankets then.
For Summer is over and the night grows long,
And the Winter winds are blowin' again.
INSTRUMENTAL
