A soft summer breeze from the Yampa sweeps o’er me,
The memories it brings almost too much to bear,
But just when it seems that my life is behind me
I turn around and see you standing there.
What breezes from Yampa, what breezes from Baca,
Found a poor cowboy, lonesome and blue?
Girl from Two Buttes, girl from the Yampa,
What have I done to deserve such as you?
Breezes from Yampa, breezes from Baca,
Breeze from the valley where wild waters flow,
What does it matter that most is behind me?
How little they number, the years overflow.