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