Desert blue and silver in the still moon-shine,
 Coyote yappin' lazy on the hill,
 Sleepy winks of lightin' down the far sky-line,
 Time for millin' cattle to be still,

 Chorus
 So, now, the lightnin's far away,
 The coyote's nothin' skeery,
 He's singin' to his dearie,
 Hee-ya, tam-ma-la-le-day!
 Settle down, you cattle, till the mornin'.

 Nothin' out the hazy range that you folks need,
 Nothin' we kin see to take you eye,
 Yet we got to watch you or you'd all stampede,
 Plung-in' down some 'roryo bank to die,

 Chorus

 Always seein' way-off dreams of silver blue,
 Always feelin' thorns that stab and sting,
 Yet stampedin' never made a dream come true,
 So I ride around myself and sing.

 Chorus

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Sheet music of this song was published in 1938 as arranged by Ralph H. Lyman for the Men's Glee Club at Pomona College. Sung by the Pomona College Glee Club. The words* are by a cowboy-poet, Badger Clark (1883-1957), the poet laureate ("lariat") of S. Dakota. It was set to music by Clifton W.  Barnes. Badger Clark also wrote the words ("A Border Affair") to the song "Spanish is the Loving Tongue" .
 * From "Sun and Saddle Leather," Richard G. Badger, publisher (1920).

ORIGINAL POEM BY BADGER CLARK

 Desert blue and silver in the still moonshine,
 Coyote yappin' lazy on the hill,
 Sleepy winks of lightning on the far skyline,
 Time for millin' cattle to be still.
         So, now, the lightnin's far away,
         The coyote's nothing skeery;
         He's singin' to his dearie --
         Hee-ya, tammalalleday!
         Settle down, you cattle, till the mornin'.

 Nothing on the hazy range that you folks need,
 Nothing we can see to take your eye.
 Yet we got to watch you or you'd all stampede,
 Plungin' down some royo bank to die.
         So, now, for still the shadows stay;
         The moon is slow and steady;
         The sun comes when he's ready.
         Hee-ya, tammalalleday!
         No use runnin' out to meet the mornin'.

 Cows and men are foolish when the light grows dim,
 Dreamin' of a land too far to see.
 There, you dream, is wavin' grass and streams that brim
 And it often seems that way to me.
         So, now, for dreams they never pay.
         The dust it keeps you blinkin'.
         We're seven miles from drinkin'.
         Hee-ya, tammalalleday!
         But we got to stand it till the mornin'.

 Mostly it's a moonlight world our trail winds through.
 Kain't see much beyond our saddle horns.
 Always far away is misty silver-blue;
 Always underfoot it's rocks and thorns.
         So, now. It must be this away-
         The lonesome owl a-callin',
         The mournful coyote squallin'.
         Hee-ya, tammalalleday!
         Mocking-birds don't sing until the mornin'.

 Always seein' 'wayoff dreams of silver-blue
 Always feelin' thorns that stab and sting
 Yet stampedin' never made a dream come true,
 So I ride around myself and sing,
         So, now, a man has got to stay,
         A-likin' or a-hatin',
         But workin' on and waitin'
         Hee-ya, tammalalleday!
         All of us are waitin' for the mornin'.
 

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