There’s a place I hate go
On the back side of the ridge
And as a result it can suffer some neglect
But now and then I remind myself
It’s better to make the ride
Than to wait until the whole thing’s wrecked
I saddle up right early
’cause I pack the night before
C
El Aguila picks his way
Through the starless Bible black
And the sun will be rising by the time we’re there
Where his boundaries are
If he don’t, it’ll end in crying
That side’s yours
And this side’s not
Once in a while we all cross the line
El Aguila hates this ride
Almost as much as me
But he knows when there’s a job, you gotta get it done
His temperament is different
Every time we climb this hill
He knows his usual tricks won’t help him n
Where his boundaries are
If he don’t, it’ll end in crying
That side’s yours
And this side’s not
Once in a while we all cross the line
I’ll be working on this ridge ‘til sunset
Thinking about just what this thing is for
Who does it keep out?
What does it keep in?
And why does it have to be such a miserable chore?
Two strands of barbed
Let the little stuff pass
Just keeps the bigger critters getting through
Some little kid
Wants to fish down in my stream
I’m pretty sure I’ll never miss a fish or two
Where his boundaries are
If he don’t, it’ll end in crying
That side’s yours
And this side’s not
Once in a while we all cross the line
There’s a place I hate go
On the back side of the ridge
And as a result it can suffer some neglect