The Johnny Cash version is great.  The Outlaws also sing a pretty good rock version of it.

My version is better!  I composed it while putting on my Harley at about 0100 along the North shore of Oahu under a huge full moon.

An old rider motored along an empty western blacktop. Red bandana, mirrored sunglasses, leather on his legs, a stroked V twin between his knees. His cut off flew the colors of his chosen clan. The engine rumbled easy until he rolled up the wick and it changed to a snarl as the needle went above eighty.
Up ahead the road bent into a long left hander and disappeared behind some trees.  He lay into the curve leaning his head and shouders to keep his eyes level with the road, he loved the g forces as the tires clung to the warm asphalt.
Up ahead from behind the trees comes a semi rolling fast, drifting across the center line into the bikers lane.  The rider sat upright and rolled off the throttle moving to the extreme right of the pavement .
Still the the truck came on until it touched gravel on the bikers side of the road.  The truckers head snapped up as if suddenly coming awake as he tried to wrestle the big rig back to the left.
Massive chrome bumper, huge square radiator, and little red oval that read Peterbilt loomed large in the bikers eyes.  With a flash of reflected sun and a roar the semi thundered past.
 the rider, now on the side of the road snicked down through the gears and found neutral stopping on the shoulder, engine ticking over beneath him.
 he fished into his cutoff pocket and found the doobie he had rolled earlier that morning.  a quick puf to get it lit, then a long pull to steady his nerves.  That's when he saw the riders.
Music begins  

A biker putted out to ride one dark and windy day
Along the road he paused to smoke while motoring on his way
When all at once a might run of blackened bikes he saw
Thundering out a mountain pass and up a cloudy draw.

yippee I Oh    Yippee i AAAAA ghost riders in the sky

Their tires were all smoking hot the engines burning oil
With fire and flame from every pipe as through the sky they toiled
On red hot Harley iron they thundered through the sky
As mortals down below just stared to see the bikers fly

Yippee I  Oh   Yippy I AAAA ghost riders in the sky

Their eyes were red with Mad Dog wine their noses packed with speed
Their awful breath it smelled of death from smoking killer weed
He recognized the riders he knew their faces well
It was a run of brothers lost on their way to Hell

Yippee I Oh   Yippee I  AAAA  ghost riders in the sky

As they bore down upon him he knew they had his soul
Said outlaw get your a$$ in gear and let that Harley roll
Prospect with us and make this run and let your spirit fly
Wer'e riding to eternity through endless stormy sky

Yippee I Oh  Yippee I AAA    Ghost riders in the sky

He thought about the friends he'd had and how he'd wish them well
He knew his time on earth was up he'd been condemned to Hell
He shouted ot his final words, but they were only lost
In thunder from his engine and the fire of his exhaust

Yippee I Oh   Yippee I AAA Ghost riders in the sky



The deputy lowered his clipboard and turned away from the truck driver.  He looked down at the small black smear of rubber on the edge of the pavement.  He looked over at the twisted lump of chrome and steel that still emitted a whisp of smoke. He watched the ambulance load the gurney and drive away. No lights, no sirens,
no hurry.


Phelonius   Just exercising my poetic license

Phelonius, you made me cry...   wonderful poetry