SS: The Lives of the Cowboys. Brought to you by High Fiber Chewing Tobacco. It's the smokeless tobacco that contains all the fiber you could possibly want or need. And now, The Lives of the Cowboys.

TR: I had no idea Nashville was so far to the east. It's almost to Washington D.C. It's so far east people wear shoes. Dull clothes. And I haven't seen the color turquoise all day.

GK: Well, it's where they make the records, Dusty. And that's why we're here. To put the western back into country. Yessir.

TR: I think maybe you've been out in the sun too long, pardner.

GK: I got a hit song in my pocket, Dusty. And I got me a recording session all lined up. Flying Pig Studio. It's down here on 17th Street somewhere.

TR: How much that cost you?

GK: A couple of steers made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of art.

TR: Glad it wasn't me.

GK: Here. This looks like it here. This little brick building here. Whoa. (HORSES HOLD UP AND NICKER)

TR: Flying Pig Studio. Wonder where they got the name. (BOOTS LAND ON SIDEWALK, FOOTSTEPS)

GK: I'm gonna walk in here an ordinary cowboy and walk out of here a major star. And nobody will ever look at me with disdain again.

TR: I will, I can promise you that. (DOOR OPENS, FOOTSTEPS)

GK: I knew you would, Dusty.

TR: You can count on me for disdain.

GK: I am sure.

TR: Long as you got me around, you will never lack for discouragement.

GK: I know that's true.

FN: Howdy, gentlemen. May I help you?

GK: I'm Lefty, here to record a record.

FN: My name is Pig. Pig Johnson. I'm the producer here.

GK: Good to meet you, Mr. Johnson.

FN: Call me Pig.

GK: Okay.

TR: What they give you the nickname Pig for, Mister?

FN: I was told it was for my intelligence. The pig is a very intelligent animal.

GK: I've heard that.

FN: So you want to make a record--

GK: Yes, sir.

FN: You all set?

GK: Yeah.

FN: Okay. Studio's in here-- (CREAKING DOOR)

GK: Kinda dark in here.

FN: The band likes it dark.

GK: Oh. There's a band.

FN: Right. This is Ahmed on bass-- (TR EGYPTIAN) -- and Arugula on drums (TR FOREIGN MUTTER) and Tse-Tse on piano (TR CHINESE) and your guitarist is Ishmael (TR SYRIAN)--

GK: And they play country music?

FN: Right.

GK: Do they speak English?

FN: Why would they need to?

GK: What do you pay them?

FN: I pay them 35 cents a day plus an egg salad sandwich plus a bus ride to the shelter.

GK: That's not much.

FN: They do it for the love of the music. You ready to go?

GK: Ready.

FN: Okay, I'll just go up to the control room. You make yourself comfortable. (CREAKING DOOR OPEN, CLOSE)

GK: So-- how you all doing?

GK: Good to have you.


GK: Nice headdress. Head scarf. Whatever you call it.

FN (INTERCOM): Okay. You all set?

GK: All set.

FN (INTERCOM): What's the name of the song?

GK: Twitter.

FN (INTERCOM): Twitter, Okay-- Ahmed?



GK: Was something wrong?

FN (INTERCOM): Ya gotta maintain discipline. Okay. Achmed. Once more.


GK: He shot the piano player.

FN (INTERCOM): You don't need a piano player. It's country music. Let's go. Time's a wasting.

GK: You going to haul the body out first--

FN (INTERCOM): Let's do the song, okay? Ahmed--


Riding down the canyon with the cattle
Darling I am lonesome missing you.
Thank goodness I can reach down in my saddle
And let you know what I am going through.
Here I sit and twitter to you dearest
Just a line or two and I press send
I am eating oatmeal for my breakfast
I am getting on my horse again
Tell me where you are, at home or in your car,
I'm on a horse and I'm playing my guitar
Here I sit and twitter like Tex Ritter
Driving herds of critters down the trail.
I am going to the refrigerator
To get me a celery stalk
And cream cheese and later
I will go for a little walk
And now I'm reading the news
And then I'll call my mother
And then I'll tie my shoes
First one, then the other
Now I'm going to brush my teeth and floss --em
And now I'm going to turn around and spit
The scenery on the trail is doggone awesome
It makes a twitter cowboy want to twit.
Tell me where you are, at home or in your car,
I'm on a horse and I'm playing my guitar
Here I sit and twitter like Tex Ritter
Driving herds of critters down the trail.

FN (INTERCOM): That's all?

GK: That's it.

FN (INTERCOM): Okay. That was great. You wanna try it again?

GK: Not really.

FN (INTERCOM): Just as a backup? For safety sake.

GK: I don't want any more loss of life.

FN (INTERCOM): Just trying to give you your money's worth.

GK: Appreciate it. What do you think of the song?

FN (INTERCOM): Let me listen to it. (REWIND) (STOP) (CLICK)

FN (SINGS): I went to Nashville to record a song
I got some Egyptians to play along.
They played the oud, bandura, and sitar.
I was the star, I played guitar. (TAPE SLOWS AND ENDS)

GK: What was that? What's wrong?

FN (INTERCOM): That was another session.

GK: I thought so.

FN (INTERCOM): I thought I'd pressed Record but I guess not.

GK: You didn't record it?

FN (INTERCOM): My mistake. Sorry.

GK: Men shed their blood for that song, sir--

FN (INTERCOM): I realize that. I'm really sorry.

GK: I never knew the music business was like this.

GK: You can say that again.


GK: That was a good song. Twitter. Coulda earned some money, bought a house, met a woman, settled down.

TR: Well, you get yourself a nice house and a beautiful woman and pretty soon you're going to be redecorating and building an addition and arguing about the carpet and the wallpaper and then you're gonna get back on the trail, which here you are, you're on the trail already, so look at the trouble you saved yourself.

SS: The Lives of the Cowboys. Brought to you by Cowboy Fiber Biscuits. Keep it Moving on the trail.