The Castro Cowboy Bar
Performed by Debbie “Hayride” Harper & The Prairie Songbirds
The Castro Cowboy Bar – DOWNLOAD
(Verse 1)
Down in the Castro, ‘midst the rainbow lights,
Sits the one cowboy bar that don’t blend quite right.
Where boots meet scooters and hats meet buns,
And the only bulls here ain’t mechanical ones.
They serve up whiskey, don’t do no spritz,
And you can’t rope a latte, no matter how it fits.
They’re tough, they’re smart, they’re stubborn as sin,
Still slingin’ shots while the world spins.
(Chorus)
The rise of the Castro Cowboy Bar ain’t no accident,
With cattle in town, it’s where the weekend’s spent.
They’re tough, smart, and not entirely retro,
Holding on tight, this ain’t at all hetro.
They don’t do lattes, they don’t serve brie,
Just bourbon neat and a side of country.
The Castro Cowboy Bar’s got charm and grit,
The last place standin’ where the cowboys sit.
(Verse 2)
You can’t parallel park a horse, they tried,
But you can still two-step if you’re quick on the side.
Out back, they got a hitchin’ post just for show,
‘Cause ropin’ a cable car don’t quite flow.
Inside there’s a jukebox that don’t play synth,
Just Merle, Willie, and Johnny’s grin.
It’s the only spot in town with sawdust floors,
Where Stetsons and beanies both walk through the doors.
(Chorus)
The rise of the Castro Cowboy Bar ain’t no accident,
With cattle in town, it’s where the weekend’s spent.
They’re tough, smart, and a little bit stubborn,
Where the spurs jingle while the scooters are hummin’.
They don’t do lattes, they don’t serve brie,
Just bourbon neat and a side of country.
The Castro Cowboy Bar’s got charm and grit,
The last place standin’ where the cowboys sit.
(Bridge)
Where the tech bros thought line dance was a yoga pose,
And the closest thing to a wrangler is your weekend clothes.
They ain’t got a bull ride, no room for that,
But they got a lasso toss and a good ol’ chat.
It’s a honky-tonk vibe in a kombucha town,
Where the man buns stop, and the spurs go down.
Out front, they got a pink neon steer,
Flashin’ bright to let y’all know they’re here.
(Chorus)
The rise of the Castro Cowboy Bar ain’t no accident,
With cattle in town, it’s where the weekend’s spent.
They’re tough, smart, and a little bit queer,
Holding on tight, how this works is
unclear.
They don’t serve spritzers, no kale to chew,
Just a jukebox playin’ a country tune.
The Castro Cowboy Bar’s got charm and grit,
The last place standin’ where the cowboys sit.
(Verse 3)
There’s no rodeo here, but they’ll make do,
With a shuffle, a shuffle, and a drink or two.
You’ll find a saddle hangin’ by the bar,
A relic of days when steers went far.
And when they pour the bourbon, you’ll see a grin,
‘Cause this ain’t no tech spot, it’s where the country wins.
So bring your boots, or don’t, who cares,
They’ll still pour you a shot, they’ve seen it all there.
[end]
The Castro Cowboy Bar – Lyrics and Music by Alan Nafzger
The Castro Cowboy Bar
Alan Nafzger (1996)
Down in the Castro, where rainbow lights gleam,
Sits a cowboy bar that breaks from the scene.
Where boots and hats meet scooters and flair,
And the bulls they talk of aren’t just in the air.
Whiskey flows neat, no spritzers in sight,
You can’t rope a latte, no matter how tight.
The crowd’s tough as nails, yet stylish and bold,
Slinging shots of bourbon, defying the mold.
The rise of this bar, it’s no mistake,
Cattle in town, and cowboys awake.
Tough, smart, a bit stubborn too,
Not just retro, they’re something new.
No brie, no lattes, just grit and bourbon neat,
It’s here that old country and new city meet.
Hitching posts line the back, but no horses to see,
For ropin’ a cable car ain’t meant to be.
Jukeboxes hum with Merle and Willie’s sound,
While Stetsons and beanies alike gather ‘round.
Sawdust covers the floor, thick and deep,
As cowboys and tech bros share stories and leap.
They’ve tried to park horses, but streets are too tight,
Still, there’s two-steppin’ beneath city lights.
Tech bros thought line dancing was a twist of zen,
Wranglers now just weekend clothes for them.
No bull rides here, but lasso games they play,
In this honky-tonk refuge where country holds sway.
Neon steers light the way in pink and bright,
Inviting all to the Castro’s cowboy night.
A place of charm, where spurs still gleam,
In a town where tech often rules the scene.
But here, the grit of old country prevails,
A mix of both worlds, a fresh wind in its sails.
So bring your boots or maybe not, who cares?
They’ll pour you a shot, they’ve seen it all there.
With a saddle hung proudly by the bar’s side,
A relic of cowboys, a source of pride.
No rodeo needed, no fancy affairs,
Just country tunes and the camaraderie they share.
Last Updated on June 19, 2026 by Alan Nafzger