It's just a little village
lying out of the way,
Little north of Albuquerque,
little south of Santa Fe,
Where the jets from California
leave their trails in the sky,
Born to stay in Gal isteo
till the day that I die,
Cause in my little brown adobe
nestle warm in the sun,
Where the coyotes chase the rabbits
and the roadrunners run
I'm as happy as a boot owl
when the cool breezes blow
Up the draw in Galistale
where my cottonwoods grow
A little glass of wine with a buddy of mine
Or maybe a cup of tea
The magic of a song
when the shadows grow long
That's good enough for me
In my favorite little village
lying out of the way
A little north of Albuquerque,
a little south of Santa Fe
Where the jets from California
leave their trails up above
I'm gonna stay in Galistea
with the folks that I love
Lookin' out my door,
about a quarter to four,
I wave when the chief goes by.
And though it's just a train,
I never could ex plain
why a tear comes to my eye.
Unless it's cause I'm thankful
that I'm living each day,
A little north of Albuquerque,
a little south of Santa Fe,
Where the jets from California
leave their trails up above
I want to stay in Galistea
with the folks that I love
At home in Galistea
where the road runners run