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As the western sun was setting on a summer's day,
Lying on a saddle blanket, a dying cowboy lay;
Comrades gather close around me, I'll be soon away,
And to you I'll tell my story, listen while I say:
Cowboys don't forget your mothers, write a letter home,
Though you've grown into manhood and began to roam;
I know mother is sad and lonely, living all alone,
On this earth no more I'll see her, send my letters home.
Tell her how I long to see her though she's far away,
And I'll meet her up in heaven on the judgement day;
Tell her that I've still her picture and a locket of golden hair,
I'll be waiting for you, mother, on that golden stair.
Cowboys don't forget your mothers, write a letter home,
Though you've grown into manhood and began to roam;
I know mother is sad and lonely, living all alone,
On this earth no more I'll see her, send my letters home.
As the yellow moon was shining on the prairie crest,
In a grave six feet by three we laid him down to rest;
Many times as we go riding by his lonely grave,
It brings back those haunting memories when we heard him say:
Cowboys don't forget your mothers, write a letter home,
Though you've grown into manhood and began to roam;
I know mother is sad and lonely, living all alone,
On this earth no more I'll see her, send my letters home.
Sung by William O'Driscoll [1891-1977] of Tors Cove, NL, and published in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA).
