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The County

from The County by Forrest VanTuyl

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about

The County is a tribute to a place I spent more time than any other, and gave more of myself to. The song lays it all out - heavy with detail, a handful of things I miss and some straight-up facts, take em or leave em. I called it home. It's a classic cowboy waltz in D, steady as a smooth horse in steep country. Fried Chicken at the Range Rider. Gettin' bucked off young horses and finding an old packer's beer stash in a mountain stream. I was young, and broke, and it didn't matter, until it did. This fall I went back to help my friend Mark Schott work some yearlings. He asked if I wanted money or a cool surprise. I said cool surprise, of course, and a few weeks later he met me in The Dalles with a 60's Harmony semihollow. Naturally, I took it along for this recording session, and it ended up being the perfect guitar for this song. Thanks, Mark.

lyrics

I rolled up my bed and I loaded my horses
and I loaded my saddle and dog
it was slow rollin out and the long summer’s drought
hung the dust on the road like a fog
six summers in her mountains six autumns in her canyons six winters hardly eatin’ at all
six years slippin’ by like a rope on mulehide
and I’m turnin’ to write my epilogue

I was young, and the horses were too, I didn’t own much of my own
out in the county they call it The County, for a while there I called it home

They ride bridled up mustangs from the canyon to the brandin’ pen tack on sharp shoes in the fall
it’s snakey and it’s steep, it’s rocky and it’s deep
so bring all the dogs you can haul

it’s six months of winter, range rider for dinner,
square dancin’ at the hurricane hall
some call it God’s country but it’s more like Paul Bunyan struck the earth with an old splittin’ maul

I was young and the horses were too, I didn’t own much of my own
out in the county they call it the county, for a while there I called it home

I miss single-jack fences straight line ‘cross the canyon, mule-packed & split tamarack stays
I miss Hamm's Sandwich packers and wolverine trappers and rawhiders discussin’ braids

I miss sheepwagon cowcamp and rattlesnake switchbacks and the smell of ponderosa on a summer day
I miss single jack fences cuttin’ lines cross the canyon,
old mules and forgotten trades

I was young and the horses were too, I didn’t own much of my own
out in the county they call it the county, for a while there I called it home

credits

from The County, released February 1, 2024
Engineered & Mixed by Clara Baker
Fiddle - Clara Baker
Drums - Dan Galucki
Guitars, bass, vocals - Forrest VanTuyl

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about

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Forrest VanTuyl Goldendale, Washington

Forrest VanTuyl is a Western songwriter, poet, and working cowboy based in the Inland Northwest. His work has been featured in the New York Times, at The National Cowboy Poetry Gathering, and he has written music for the US Forest Service.

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