Way down south on the border of Mexico
With the rattlesnakes cactus and banditos
Dirt and spurs, feed the hounds and let'im go
As a boy, Marvin taught him where the big toms rove in
Open Country where the jaguars roam
Open Country full of a different kind of gold
A sixteen-hand mule saddled up 'fore the sun glows
Nobody told'im this wretched life is a hard row to hoe
Hiding the rising sun behind the Chiricahua's folds
He's mounted and moving for an all-day mule back stroll in
Open Country where the jaguars roam
Open Country full of a different kind of gold
On a lion track in the dirt seven miles in but where'd he go?
Got a pack of White Walkers that are philosophers like Thoreau
Working 'cross the dirt like a farmer works his rows
Up the canyon, 'round the rock, chasing the ghost of a shadow through
Open Country where the jaguars roam
Open Country full of a different kind of gold
Open Country will be lost if no one knows
That this wild Country is where the jaguar roams
They'll only catch him if he crosses the plateau
Chase'im over the rimrocks and Ol Hook bays him in a hole
It's no lion he seeks but a wildness he can't control
Who I'm talkin' about is Warner Glenn and his mule, Machomo