An old cowpoke went riding out one dark and windy day,
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way,
When all at once a mighty herd of red eyed cows he saw,
A-plowin' through the ragged skies and up a cloudy draw.

Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel,
Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel,
bolt of fear shot through him as he looked up in the sky,
For he saw the [bad word] #39; hard and he heard their mournful cry.

Yippee-yi-ya, yippee-yi-yo,
Ghost riders in the sky.
Yippee-yi-ya, yippee-yi-yo,
Ghost riders in the sky.

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred, their shirts all soaked with sweat,
They're riding hard to catch that herd, but they ain't caught 'em yet,
'cause they've got to ride forever on that range up in the sky,
On horses snortin' fire, as they ride on hear their cry.

The cowpokes loped on past him and he heard one call his name,
If you want to save your soul from [bad word] a-riding on our range,
Then cowboy, change your ways today, or with us you will ride,
A-trying to catch the devil's herd across these endless skies.

Yippee-yi-ya, yippee-yi-yo,
Ghost riders in the sky.
Yippee-yi-ya, yippee-yi-yo,
Ghost riders in the sky...