My life is a Zane Gray novel,

My pards and I always agree;

No person could be luckier,

The Irish have nothing on me.

Sagebrush and pine are my shamrocks,

Prairie grass is my endless sea;

Charlie Russell is my patron saint,

The Irish have nothing on me.

The home place is my pot of gold,

Where love doesn't come with a fee;

Family is the end of my rainbow,

The Irish have nothing on me.

My ancestors left me no birthright,

A Cowboy is my pedigree;

Stubby dogs are my leprechauns,

The Irish have nothing on me.

A salt block is my blarney stone,

Where coyotes wail like the banshee;

And fresh rain tastes better than ale,

The Irish have nothing on me.

Lord knows I am a lucky man,

To live in the land of the free;

You say, it's the luck of the Irish,

I say, the Irish have nothing on me.