Verse 1 Out where the red dirt meets the sky in Oklahoma, Where the wind hums low and the coyotes cry, There rides a man who greets the dawn— A Widows Son, forever drawn. Chrome and leather, engines roar Through Tulsa streets and prairie floor, From lodge room light to highway line, He rides for truth, for square and sign. Chorus Ride on, ride on, through the setting sun, Brother bound ‘til the work is done. From the apron white to the open road, He carries light in the load he holds. Ride on, ride on, let the story run— For the Mason’s work and the Widows Sons. Verse 2 In the lodge where the candles glow, Where the quiet truths of old men flow, He stands in boots and a cowboy hat, Reciting words where legends sat. On the team that brings the tale to life— The ritual, the lesson, the symbolic knife. Not for harm, but to cut what’s false, To walk upright, whatever the cost. Chorus Ride on, ride on, through the setting sun, Brother bound ‘til the work is done. From the apron white to the open road, He carries light in the load he holds. Bridge There’s a patch on his back and a sign in his heart, Two different roads, but they’re not apart. When a brother falls or a widow weeps, It’s the Widows Sons who ride those streets. Engines low like a mourning hymn, Standing strong when the light grows dim. Verse 3 And the cowboy team in the lodge that night Brings forth truth in symbolic light. Every stance and every line Marks a step in a Mason’s climb. Final Chorus Ride on, ride on, through the endless plain, Through joy, through loss, through dust and rain. From Oklahoma skies so wide, He keeps the faith and he keeps the ride. Ride on, ride on, till the work is done— He rides as many, but lives as one.
