The Phantom Herd

Intro
(Low, ominous acoustic guitar strumming with deep bass notes)
(Distant thunder rumbles quietly in the background)
(Tremolo electric guitar accents swell in, setting a shadowy, expectant mood)
​[Verse 1]
An iron frost was falling fast across the broken divide,
As an old cowboy rode his horse along the canyon side.
The wind was howling through the pines, a cold and bitter sound,
When off against the darkening sky, a shadow filled the ground.
​His eyes grew wide, his hand froze cold upon the leather rein,
He saw a phantom herd of cattle charging through the rain.
Their hooves were made of thunder and their eyes were burning red,
A hundred ghost-steers tearing through the valley of the dead.
​[Chorus]
(Driving rhythm picks up pace with galloping acoustic pickin')
Yippee-i-ay, yippee-i-oh,
The thunder in the dark!
They’re riding hard, they’re riding fast,
To leave a searing mark!
Yippee-i-ay, yippee-i-oh,
Across the midnight sky,
You can hear the phantom cowboys howl,
As the thunder passes by!
​[Verse 2]
(Instrumentation drops back to low, pulsing bass and acoustic guitar)
Their faces worn, their shirts were torn, their hats were dripping wet,
Bound to chase that spectral herd for sins they can't forget.
And as they thundered down the ridge, the lead rider turned his head,
He called the old man by his name, and this is what he said:
​"If you want to save your mortal soul from riding in this band,
Then change your ways this very night before you lose your land.
For if you hold to greed and wrath, when your last breath is drawn,
You'll ride with us across the storm until the endless dawn!"
​[Chorus]
(Full arrangement returns with energetic, driving rhythm and haunting fiddle)
Yippee-i-ay, yippee-i-oh,
The thunder in the dark!
They’re riding hard, they’re riding fast,
To leave a searing mark!
Yippee-i-ay, yippee-i-oh,
Across the midnight sky,
You can hear the phantom cowboys howl,
As the thunder passes by!
​[Outro]
(Tempo slowly decelerates, electric guitar reverb trails off)
The storm rolled on into the night, the red eyes faded dim...
The old cowboy bowed his head and sang a quiet hymn.
Beware the ridge...
Beware the storm...
Or you will join the herd.
​(Final resonant low baritone hum accompanied by a dying acoustic guitar chord)