Wintertime is long on the mountain
Snow flies for nine long months a year
But when the warm south wind blows
Every cowboy knows
Spring roundup time is finally here

So call the boys at the big A double L
Call Mike and Jeff and Jason and the crew
Come the break of dawn
We'll be saddled up and gone
Six hundred head 'fore the day is through

CHORUS:
'Cause there's nothin' like the Wasatch in the springtime
Nothin' like the freedom in the air
And there ain't nothin' better than draggin' calves to the fire
And there's nothin' like the smell of burnin' hair

These days pass by like the wind
And the boys have loaded up and they're headin' home
But come this time next year
You can bet they'll be right here
'Til the cattle and the west are dead and gone

CHORUS

No, there's nothin' like the smell of burnin' hair
Nothin' like the Wasatch in the springtime


© 2000 Red Cliffs Press Music (BMI)