Kingwood Kowboy's History Of Country Music

Spoken-word introduction followed by an old-time radio cowboy song.

Waiting By The Silvery Rio Grande:

Into the woodland creeps the day, shadowed through beautiful Crimson trees, peeps through the purple of the twilight rain and whispers a song on the wings of the breeze.

Scattering clouds gather on the crest, like white floating doves in their heavenly nest.

And the silver of night in transparent delight bids goodbye to day as the stars point the way.

Poppies now sleep in their cradle below and all nature's at rest in the Moon's gentle glow.

And the Spirit of God from the high throne above whispers Peace on the Earth in the gift of His love.

You know, it's time to guide you good folks to the camp fire of the Kingwood Kowboy and his Ranch Hands for some Fall Western entertainment. Listen, as the Ranch Hands sing one of their favorite songs.

Spoken-word introduction followed by an old-time radio cowboy song.

The Roving Cowboy:

On the trail at eve'n tide as the sun sinks ever lower and lower in the west, the deep shadows of the coming night gather overhead and cast a peaceful, restful atmosphere round about you. Our guide, the Kingwood Kowboy, seated easily astride his Pinto Pony, points the way to the sparkling reflection of the campfire as his Ranch Hands gather round the Chuck wagon, singing and enjoying the simple plaintive tunes of the great open spaces. Shall we spur up our horses and join this carefree happy throng as they chant the melodies that were born of the West? Listen, as the Ranch Hands sing one of their favorite songs.

Spoken-word introduction followed by an old-time radio cowboy song.

The Old Pine Tree:

Steeped in the rays of gold, purple, and blue of the early evening, as the sun slips into a blanket of fluffy clouds just over the horizon, and a sentinel prairie dog barks his warning of the coming night. A rugged cowboy wends his way astride his pinto pony through the last gap of the canyon and on into the little valley where his partners, after a hard day of branding are gathered, enjoying the warmth and companionship of the glowing campfire in the crispness of the night air. Look! He turns in his saddle and beckons to us. Now, shall we follow him into the land of the setting sun and listen as the Ranch Hands sing one of their favorite songs.

Spoken-word introduction followed by an old-time radio cowboy song.

Sweetest Little Rose In Tennessee:

I watched the sunset form every second. Something new and startling appeared to melt into the beauty of all the clouds. Dark and light shadows, midst a landscape with sleepy eyes in the touch of a thousand winds, meeting to tell the day farewell into the sunset. It sometimes seemed as though from the dying day, all its beauty had been accumulated or extracted, and then lavishly poured into the elements that so mysteriously and wonderfully made up that sunset. Buried in beauty are the heartaches and hungers and strivings of us all. Our sunsets, which the world looks at so admiringly, ever dreaming. The trail of details is in each ray of light. Who does not see his own soul in every sunset? But just now, the Kingwood Kowboy and his Ranch Hands see their guests coming down the old trail to the Ranch. Let us join them and listen as the Ranch Boys sing one of their favorite songs.

Spoken-word introduction followed by an old-time radio cowboy song.

Sunshine Trail:

What strange forms loom up in front of us as we ride along the Western Trail in the darkness of the night. And yet when we ride closer to these strange apparitions, we realize that nature has played a trick on us. Oh, it's nothing but a tree, a bush or a giant cactus who points the way ahead to the right or left with its misshapen arms outstretched, pointing the way to the camp of the Kingwood Kowboy and his Ranch Hands who are waiting to sing and entertain you. Come on, spur up that pony and ride into camp and join this happy group in fellowship and song. Listen now, as the Ranch Hands sing one of their favorite songs.

Spoken-word introduction followed by an old-time radio cowboy song.

Sierra mountain Moon:

Out in the silence of the purple Vale, down through the paths of a summer trail, out amid the glow of the autumn leaves, there rests the thoughts of me. Out where the clouds thus beckoned me on up in the blue of the heavenly dawn, to clouds floating on the celestial sea I’m drawn, there let it rest, the thoughts of me. And now, come over to the ranch of the Kingwood Kowboy and meet his Ranch Hands as they sing one of their favorite songs.

Spoken-word introduction followed by an old-time radio cowboy song.

Pretty Red Wing:

The sun in all its glory of gold and Crimson is slipping silently into its pocket at the Western edge of the world. And as we happily follow the Western trail, we turn in our saddle and gaze into the gentle face of a new, soft silvery moon that peeks at us as we rise to the top of a slight incline, and look down into a little Valley where the glowing embers of a campfire gives evidence of a group of Cowboys who have just finished their evening meal after a hard day on the range, and are now enjoying the cool of the early evening in rest and song. Yes, you guessed it. It's the Kingwood Kowboy and his Ranch Hands. Let's go and listen as the Ranch Hands sing one of their favorite songs.

Spoken-word introduction followed by an old-time radio cowboy song.

Ragtime Cowboy Joe:

Clad in the hazy purple of the coming night, with his face turned dauntlessly to the Western trail, the cowboy sits on his horse easily as he rides through a wide Valley. A vagrant puff of wind shakes the corner of a crimson handkerchief, knotted loosely at his throat, and the rhythmic strut of his pony's feet mingling with the jingling of his spurs, arouses within you a spirit of romance and adventure. And as he leads up over the crest of the divide into the camp of the K-Bar Two, a lovely strain of plaintiff melody comes floating on the night air as the Kingwood Kowboy and his Ranch Hands are gathered around the chuck wagon and the glowing flames of the evening campfire. Now, listen as the Ranch Hands sing one of their favorite songs.

Spoken-word introduction followed by an old-time radio cowboy song.

Little Old Sod Shanty:

Our ponies hoofs beat a soft tattoo on the grassy path that leads up over the crest of Yonder Hill, that momentarily shuts off from view a beautiful little Valley, laying peacefully tucked away between the foothills of the greater mountains of the west, like a lovely Emerald nestling cosily in a setting of rare Opals. This little Valley reflects the glory of the setting sun and the warmth of the true hospitality of the west, which you will fully appreciate if you spur up your ponies and join the Kingwood Kowboy and his Ranch Hands just over that hillock. Come on. Let's listen as the Ranch Hands sing one of their favorite songs.

Spoken-word introduction followed by an old-time radio cowboy song.

El Rancho Grande:

It's like the sweeping, soul stirring strains from a great Symphony, swinging to its climatic tone picture, under the rhythmic tempo set by the baton of a masterful leader. So the night rushes in at the downbeat of the sinking sun. He sweeps through his varied Symphony of color tones from gold to blue and red to purple and Gray. The power of the great director is seen in building the climax to a perfect Symphony of night. And as we poor, humble mortals ever look on, unable to aid or detain, we Marvel in its grandeur and its peace. The Kingwood Kowboy is waiting at the mouth of the gap for you, waiting to take you into his camp and meet his Ranch boys. Listen, as they sing one of their favorite songs.