Through the years I’ve often wondered
Is there just one Pearly Gate
In my minds eye I can see it there
Standin’ strong and true and straight

The paint weren’t chipped nor faded
And it swung real smooth and free
But is this gate just for city folks
Not for worn out old punchers like me

I’m not accustomed to gates so grand
Round our ranch we merely make do
They’re not real neat nor fancy made
Most have a broken rail or two

So I wonder, when I make it there
To that gate so grand and fine
Will the good Lord let me ride on through
Or send me ‘round to one like mine

Like this one here at the brandin’ pens
With it’s worn and splintered rails
Lord, if that old gate could talk
It could tell a million tales

Like at brandin’ time when the wagon’s out
For weeks there in the spring
Or when the hands play a cowboy symphony
When their rowels begin to ring

Or in the winter when it’s feeding time
Cause the snow is driftin’ deep
And you’re wonderin’ where the remuda is 
Roll out cause you can’t sleep

Cause that old gate ain’t hung real sturdy
It blows shut when it ain’t tied
So you brave the bitter cold and snow
To push that gate back way out wide 

The horses know protection’s waitin’ 
Through that gate if there’s a need
And there’s trust and admiration there
When they come in to feed

That worn old gate is mighty special
Though it’s seen some better days
In the spring you see revival through it
In the valley beneath the haze

At that gate, if you listen closely
A wealth of laughter fills your ears
Must be old friends that happened by
For all those many years

This ranch breathed life for a lot of years
Into kids and calves and foals
And sunrise still takes your breath away
From atop those rocky knolls

This gate must be the Pearly kind
Though it’s rough and loosely tied
When I’m standin’ there a lookin’ through
I see heaven on the other side.