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When cowboys herded cattle up from Texas to the rails,
They found that some was leaders, first and foremost on the trails.
Like men, some steers was footloose, with an eye for someplace new.
The finest one you ever saw was Charlie Goodnights Blue.
Old Blue went up and down the trail, because he knew the way.
He made a many cattle drives, and led them all, they say.
Ive seen him striding tireless at the head of hundreds more.
He liked to lead, and boss the herd--and travel, thats for sure.
Our cattle drives are history--the trails are closed and gone--
But still at times, like roundup, well be out where we belong.
Sleeping underneath the sky, the way we used to do
When we drove cows to Kansas--them and us behind Old Blue.
Ive heard there was some folks that lived a real long time ago,
Put brands on all the different stars--- I reckon, sos theyd know
If any of them was to stray, or otherwise get gone.
(Its likely there was rustlers, even when the world was young.)
They had the Fish, the Scorpion, they had a Pair of Scales,
And whole four-legged critters, with their horns and hoofs and tails.
With all the stars they rounded up, their brand-book soon got full.
One outfit was the Taurus, which was what they called their bull.
Old Blue, he wore the Goodnight brand, but surely, by and by,
He joined up with the Taurus, as it wheeled across the sky.
Hed never run with goats, nor sheep--cow critters were his kind.
So its Taurus where I see him, with his thousand head behind.
I saw a sight, or dreamed a dream, that took me back again
To when I drove the long trails with the Texas cattlemen.
I saw a mighty bovine stalk across the Milky Way,
And something was familiar in that big heads lordly sway.
Aldebaran was gleaming, like the tip of one long horn.
Old Blue was up there leading us along to Judgment Morn.
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