My heroes all been Rangers, men of dust, men of steel,
true to friends as well as strangers, and hell behind a wheel.
Got a steady moral compass, got the brains to match the brawn,
got no fear of life or death. Thank God for every breath.
And above all, as a Ranger, you went on.
My old man he farmed a land that put his mettle to the test
and he fought hard, so I come by it pretty honestly I guess...
He cut notches in his tractor every harvest he done drawn,
but too proud of what he growed, now he's reapin' what he sowed.
But through dust and rust us Jacksons we went on.
Cuttin' notches ain't no pleasure - you don't pack the heat for fun.
Ain't the gun that owns the Ranger, boy, the Ranger owns the gun.
Shot my share of crooks and crazies, shot my leg at 21 -
got a temper with my scar that would test the silver star,
but you never let a man get your goat, boy, you went on.
Well the Lone Star State weren't lonely when it set its bloody roots:
every rancher worth his salt got mean and gritty in cahoots.
Then employed in "common defense" back in 1823,
in spite of worries, spite of fears, stayed a symbol through the years,
and a hundred fifty later, that starlight fell on me.
It's a world of contradiction now, and money holds the key.
Politicians' wayward children makin' bail, walkin' free.
But when a Ranger faced the bench, Lord, seems the courtroom's just a pawn -
the judge will watch the guilty leave, their fate's written on his sleeve...
and you bled for the law, but another one, he went on.
Back when I cowboyed lonesome places, brandin' yearlings, ridin' fence,
seems the world was big and dumb, but hell, at least it all made sense.
Now with one foot in what's looming and the other in what's gone,
threw a hooley on the past, but we pulled it down too fast,
and they balked at change, but a Ranger, he went on.
Recorded and Mixed by Ed Tree at Tree House Studio in San Gabriel, CA
Ed Tree - Baritone Guitar
Olivia Brownlee - Guitar, Leaves, Vocals, Song