The Rooster
About This Song
In the summer of 1985, at sixteen, I hiked the mountains of the American Southwest. Our group was led by a bearded, red-haired man with a silver hoop earring. His name was Bruce but we called him “Rooster.” At the time he seemed ancient, tough and wise. In reality, he was probably forty.
Rooster and his wife Elaine moved through the high country with a quiet authority that made a lasting impression on me. Even then, I knew their names had a certain music to them. And the dynamic felt timeless: an older guide trying to pass along hard-earned wisdom to the young, knowing full well it would be ignored.
The story in this song is fiction, but it draws on that universal theme. The young rarely listen. The old keep speaking anyway.
I finished writing the song during COVID. With no foreseeable way to record it professionally, I built the track myself in GarageBand, layering the few instruments I had at hand: an out-of-tune piano, a tin bucket for a drum, a shaker. I set the song to a video made from photographs of that 1986 trip, including a few of the man who inspired it.
Rooster, wherever you are, I hope you found your heaven on the range.
Lyrics
I met the old man up on the mesa
He was camped at the head of the trail
I was looking for a guide to take me closer to the sky
And up the mountain peak I meant to scale
I don’t think he had shaved in a decade
Made it hard to see when he smiled
The brim of his hat hid those robin’s egg eyes
Boots, they had trekked ten thousand miles
Rooster had a question that first morning
As he looked up from his coffee for a spell
“You sure want to climb? Ain’t no shame to stay behind
searching for your heaven can be hell”
They all called him the Rooster
Rooster had a lady called Elaine
Rooster tried to warm me not to venture out too far
Said, “You ain’t seen the trouble on the range”
I told the Rooster all ‘bout my Rosie,
How the embers glow inside our hearts
Rosie’s far away, but I’m counting on the day
When we won’t ever have to be apart
Rooster took long swig of his whiskey,
Seemed like he had something on his mind
But he just shook his head, then climbed into his tent
Said “get some sleep, you’ll need it for the climb.”
They all called him the Rooster
Rooster had a lady called Elaine
Rooster tried to warn me not to venture out too far
Said, “You ain’t seen the trouble on the range”
I felt a chilly breeze and a raindrop
Just as we caught sight of Wilson Peak
Switchbacks zigged ‘n zagged,
There was wet moss on the crags,
Air was thin, my muscles they felt weak
Something must have happened in that moment
Maybe just a strong wind blowin’ round
I felt the Rooster’s hand, he was tryin’ to help me stand
But I just went tumblin, tumblin down
Six months down the road i’m still in rehab
Doctor says I’ll always need the cane
Rosie never showed, never called me on the phone
Rooster just keeps singing his refrain
They all call me the Rooster
Once I had a lady called Elaine
She left me when I headed for the mountains
Now I’m all alone out on the range
Searching for my heaven on the range