Author: Dennis R
Won’t just anybody be a cowboy ‘cause the pay ain’t that great.
Sometimes it’s hurry up ‘cause it’s rainin’, then it’s rainin’ so we wait.
In the summer we ride the canyons huntin’ hidden water,
In winter we herd ‘em southward to the barnyards with the fodder.
I’ve done my time in the line shack, rode a hundred miles of fence,
Lost a finger to the barbed wire and I’ve cussed it ever since.
A cowboy carries basics— his chaps and rope and saddle.
Travels ain’t for comfort, when he’s out there punchin’ cattle.
Twice a day its hard tack with the coffee and some beans,
And there to share his victuals are the sage and tumble weeds.
Laying back against his saddle, blowin’ smoke rings to the skies,
He contemplates the morrow with his hat down o’er his eyes.
The cows are bedded on the prairie, resting ‘neath the stars,
They’ll be up at dawn and into town to load the railroad cars.
But for now the peace he knows is stretched out here for miles,
‘Neath the stars and his hat the cowboy dreams and smiles.
You think his dreams are different than folks who live in town,
But the peace both are seekin’ is the prairie where he’s found.
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