It Wasn’t California

Verse 1:
He wears an old gray sweat-stained hat
With a Montana crease
Pulled down low upon his eyes
Gotta wonder how he sees

He rides a Hamley A-Fork saddle
Built in 1952
And he swears that punchin’ cattle
Is just what he was born to do

Chorus:
If he weren’t an old Vaquero
And a two reign Hacka-Mormon
You’d swear it wasn’t California

Verse 2:
Close the big steel gate behind ya
Built by an LA millionaire
Drive a mile past the home ranch
You’re in Paradise somewhere

Two track trail through live oak trees
Cattle drift the golden hills
The smell of ocean spray reminds you
You’re in California still

Repeat Chorus

Bridge:
And he can’t afford the taxes
On a place to call his own
And his truck won’t pass emissions
And he can’t carry a gun

Final Verse:
So he hand braids horse hair bridles
Just to pass the time away
And he remembers California
Before the sixties came to stay

Final Chorus:
And if it weren’t for the ocean
And the rollin’ central coast
And the live oak and persimmon
And the canyons he loves most
And if he weren’t an old vaquero
And a two-reign Hacka-Mormon
You’d swear it wasn’t California