I found him on somebody's barstool,
He thought had he known me before,
I brought him a horse he could ride on,
Then waited at the bar in a store.
He probably wouldn't remember,
and I probably couldn't forget,
Cowboy Jones, on the range, on a countryside,
Everything's better with a jet.

Cowboy Jones, he tried to forget,
To ride on a saddle.
Cowboy Jones, he tries to forget,
To ride on a saddle.

But lately, he forgot how to ride it,
I never see him on a horse,
But we need some definite answers,
So I thought he'd write a code of Morse.
The Morse code had made him forget things,
He usually forgets it then,
But the home on the range and the horse riding game,
Have made the cowboy forget them.

Cowboy Jones, he tried to forget,
To ride on a saddle.
Cowboy Jones, he tried to forget,
To ride on a saddle.

He treats me like I was his rider,
He rides to treat like me a dinosaur.
My galloping of going around again,
Has made me throw you in the shore.
He lives in a world of buckaroos,
Where they sing a song about him,
He can't forget the baseball game he might lose,
But does Leap ever sing about him?

Cowboy Jones, he tried to forget,
To ride on a saddle.
Cowboy Jones, he tried to forget,
To ride on a saddle.
Cowboy Jones, he tried to forget,
To ride on a saddle.
Cowboy Jones, he tried to forget,
To ride on a saddle.