Are you really a cowboy?
Well I thought he asked in jest.
Cause I try and be a cowboy
I'd done my level best.
With my high topped bots and Stetson hat
And fancy wild rag.
I answered back "why sure I am".
I kinda had to brag.
But I've thought about that question
ANd the wisdom it displayed.
Cause looks can be deceiving
And the truth ain't always played.
There's lots of folks in fancy boots
And cowboy hats these days.
They're part of what they like to call
The urban cowboy craze.
But to really be a cowboy,
It takes more that what you wear.
Cause things about a cowboy
That don't readily appear.
Are at ease with mother nature
Can you take what she will give?
Do you thank the God who gave you all
The chance you have to live?
Do you thank Him for the chance you have
To ride and work this land?
And do you thank Him for the cattle
The ones that wear your brand?
Do you take care of your cattle
'Fore you worry bout yourself?
Does you learnin' come from doin?
Not just some book up on some shelf.
Do you get a thrill just watchin'
A wobbly newborn calf?
As he tries to take those first few steps,
It's chance not many have.
Is there something 'bout a well broke horse
That fills your heart with pride.
When you go to workin' cattle
And your there just for the ride.
Are your horse and dog and catch rope
The best friends you've found yet?
And do you get a special feeling
While your watchin' a sunset?
Do you get a peaceful feeling
Lookin' up at starlit skies?
Do rain drops on the hard dry ground
Bring tear drops to your eyes?
Do you see the simple beauties
In this land that you call home?
And do you feel the same way 'bout her
No matter where you roam?
When you find someone in trouble
Do you lend a helpin' hand?
With no thought of public fanfare
And no recompense demand?
When You're ridin' on the open range
And no one else is there
But you feel like someones watchin'
Do you know that God is near?
Well these are just a few of the things
A man can't see.
That make a cowboy what he is
And what he'll always be.
And it don't matter what you're doin'
This spirit you can't tame.
There's folks that's workin' nine to five
But they're cowboys just the same.
But looks can be deceivin'
And sometimes it's not to clear.
As to if a man's a cowboy
By the clothes he's chose to wear.
Cuz there's lots of folks that's tryin' hard
To look and act the part
But to really be a cowboy
You've got to be one in your heart.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Man's Best Friend
A dog, it's been said, is man's best friend.
His faithful companion to the end.
But have you ever wondered just how it must seem
Through the eyes of a dog this popular theme?
He hollers at me, "Get in the truck",
But the tailgates up, what terrible luck.
I jump in the back and I scratch up the pain.
And he calls me that son of a no good saint.
We're goin' down the road at leas 60 per.
The fleas they're a flyin' right out of my fur.
I'm strainin' bugs through my clenched teeth,
And when we finally slow down it's an awful relief.
I go chase the cows and he hollers come back.
You dumb ol mutt now don't do that.
Then he tells me to sic 'em and round up his herd.
And wonders why I sit there like I don't hear a word.
He tells me to come, then he tells me to stay.
He can't seem to make up him mind either way.
He cusses and yells till I run away to hide.
And then we he needs me I'm clear out of sight.
So after lookin' at things through they eyes of a dog.
And the way man treats his faithful compad.
All things considered and the message we send,
I'm glad I'm not man's best friend!
His faithful companion to the end.
But have you ever wondered just how it must seem
Through the eyes of a dog this popular theme?
He hollers at me, "Get in the truck",
But the tailgates up, what terrible luck.
I jump in the back and I scratch up the pain.
And he calls me that son of a no good saint.
We're goin' down the road at leas 60 per.
The fleas they're a flyin' right out of my fur.
I'm strainin' bugs through my clenched teeth,
And when we finally slow down it's an awful relief.
I go chase the cows and he hollers come back.
You dumb ol mutt now don't do that.
Then he tells me to sic 'em and round up his herd.
And wonders why I sit there like I don't hear a word.
He tells me to come, then he tells me to stay.
He can't seem to make up him mind either way.
He cusses and yells till I run away to hide.
And then we he needs me I'm clear out of sight.
So after lookin' at things through they eyes of a dog.
And the way man treats his faithful compad.
All things considered and the message we send,
I'm glad I'm not man's best friend!
Nibbles
My brother-in-law bought a horse.
A pretty sorrel mare.
Someone said, "She's gentle".
But she was wild as a hare.
The kids all called her Nibbles.
Cuz they thought it quite a sight.
To see their dad a jumpin'
When she's turn and try to bite.
He started into break her
Wen she was coming three.
But he never had no notion
What a hard job it would be.
See, there was just something about her.
She had this wild side
And ya couldn't gain her confidence
No matter what ya tried.
Just when things were goin' good.
She'd throw some kind of fit.
Like layin' down when ya tied her up
Or balkin' at the bit.
She reared over on my brother
Acting like a crazy fool.
Try to pick her feed up
She'd kick like an army mule.
One day we snubbed her to a horse
To break that mare to ride.
But when he stepped upon her
She went over on her side.
And when that danged ol mare went down
She pulled my horse a straddle.
Then stood up underneath us both
And I was scramblin' from the saddle.
There were people takin' pictures
And such a sight they'd never seen.
With a horse on the bottom and me on the top.
And another one in between.
He finally up and sold her
Just to keep from getting hurt,
Cuz every time you rode her
With death you seemed to flirt.
Bur the moral of this story
That I know you'll say is fact.
There's too many good ones in the world
To mess with a horse like that.
Some horses were mean to be ridden
And other ones just throw fits
But I think was Nibbles was meant for-
Was to be part of Kibbles 'n Bits!
A pretty sorrel mare.
Someone said, "She's gentle".
But she was wild as a hare.
The kids all called her Nibbles.
Cuz they thought it quite a sight.
To see their dad a jumpin'
When she's turn and try to bite.
He started into break her
Wen she was coming three.
But he never had no notion
What a hard job it would be.
See, there was just something about her.
She had this wild side
And ya couldn't gain her confidence
No matter what ya tried.
Just when things were goin' good.
She'd throw some kind of fit.
Like layin' down when ya tied her up
Or balkin' at the bit.
She reared over on my brother
Acting like a crazy fool.
Try to pick her feed up
She'd kick like an army mule.
One day we snubbed her to a horse
To break that mare to ride.
But when he stepped upon her
She went over on her side.
And when that danged ol mare went down
She pulled my horse a straddle.
Then stood up underneath us both
And I was scramblin' from the saddle.
There were people takin' pictures
And such a sight they'd never seen.
With a horse on the bottom and me on the top.
And another one in between.
He finally up and sold her
Just to keep from getting hurt,
Cuz every time you rode her
With death you seemed to flirt.
Bur the moral of this story
That I know you'll say is fact.
There's too many good ones in the world
To mess with a horse like that.
Some horses were mean to be ridden
And other ones just throw fits
But I think was Nibbles was meant for-
Was to be part of Kibbles 'n Bits!
The Hat
A cowboy hat is special
TO the folks who wear this crown.
They feel like they're kings with the looks that it brings
From kids when they go into town.
But a hat is more than a costume.
It serves a purpose as well.
To keep the sun out of eyes, to shoo away flies
And for sackin' out colds in works swell.
I've seen it used as a bucket
For givin' horses a drink.
And for a pillow at night when you turn out the lights
It's more useful than you might think.
When the clouds bust loose and it's rainin'.
And you're wishin' that you were in bed.
It's a sure bet that your face won't get wet
With that hat that sits on your head.
Each hat is unique to a cowboy.
From the brim to the crease in the crown.
But you'd better beware and take lots of care
In the way that you set the thing down.
And the shape says a lot bout the cowboy.
Each adds his personal style.
With the brim pulled down low and the crown creased just so,
You can tell who it is for a mile
And according to cowboy etiquette.
Another man's hat do not touch.
For a cowboy you see can get pretty teed
If you mess with the thing very much.
A cowboy I knew was out ridin'
Along an old river bed.
In some quicksand he fell without even a yell
And he went in it up over his head.
They found him the very nest morning.
His Resistol markin' the spot.
And they were sorry to see that there no longer would be
This cowboys whom they loved a lot.
Well they wanted to pull from that quagmire
Something to remember him by.
Why his hat they would save to hang on his grave
They said with a tear in their eye.
When from out of that mud boomed a warming.
That shocked each on where he sat.
"How I'll get out of this mess is anyone's guess.
But don't you dare touch my hat!
TO the folks who wear this crown.
They feel like they're kings with the looks that it brings
From kids when they go into town.
But a hat is more than a costume.
It serves a purpose as well.
To keep the sun out of eyes, to shoo away flies
And for sackin' out colds in works swell.
I've seen it used as a bucket
For givin' horses a drink.
And for a pillow at night when you turn out the lights
It's more useful than you might think.
When the clouds bust loose and it's rainin'.
And you're wishin' that you were in bed.
It's a sure bet that your face won't get wet
With that hat that sits on your head.
Each hat is unique to a cowboy.
From the brim to the crease in the crown.
But you'd better beware and take lots of care
In the way that you set the thing down.
And the shape says a lot bout the cowboy.
Each adds his personal style.
With the brim pulled down low and the crown creased just so,
You can tell who it is for a mile
And according to cowboy etiquette.
Another man's hat do not touch.
For a cowboy you see can get pretty teed
If you mess with the thing very much.
A cowboy I knew was out ridin'
Along an old river bed.
In some quicksand he fell without even a yell
And he went in it up over his head.
They found him the very nest morning.
His Resistol markin' the spot.
And they were sorry to see that there no longer would be
This cowboys whom they loved a lot.
Well they wanted to pull from that quagmire
Something to remember him by.
Why his hat they would save to hang on his grave
They said with a tear in their eye.
When from out of that mud boomed a warming.
That shocked each on where he sat.
"How I'll get out of this mess is anyone's guess.
But don't you dare touch my hat!
Just To Be Cowboy
I think about when I was young
The games we used to play.
We'd go out in the backyard
And pass the time away.
We'd play like we were wanted men.
The James and Dalton gang.
And hide down on the ditch bank,
So none of us would hang.
We'd also be a posse.
And every car that came our way
Was full of thieves and rustlers
And we had to make 'em pay.
With toy cap guns blanzin'.
We'd round up all the men.
Have a shoot out with the outlaws
Yea, I remember when.
We'd pretend that we were good guys
Just like Roy and Dale.
We'd save the heroine in distress
And ride down happy trails.
Then we'd go and catch the milk cows calf
And try to make him buck.
Pretend that we were Freckles Brown,
About to try our luck.
We'd imagine we were ranchers
And we'd own the biggest spread.
And gather cows on horses
With broomsticks for a head.
We've all grown up, those days are gone.
We've seen so many changes.
Each one of us has up and left
And now ride on different ranges.
But those childhood games are not forgot.
No need to make a fuss.
'Cuz just to be a cowboy
Takes some kid in each of us.
The games we used to play.
We'd go out in the backyard
And pass the time away.
We'd play like we were wanted men.
The James and Dalton gang.
And hide down on the ditch bank,
So none of us would hang.
We'd also be a posse.
And every car that came our way
Was full of thieves and rustlers
And we had to make 'em pay.
With toy cap guns blanzin'.
We'd round up all the men.
Have a shoot out with the outlaws
Yea, I remember when.
We'd pretend that we were good guys
Just like Roy and Dale.
We'd save the heroine in distress
And ride down happy trails.
Then we'd go and catch the milk cows calf
And try to make him buck.
Pretend that we were Freckles Brown,
About to try our luck.
We'd imagine we were ranchers
And we'd own the biggest spread.
And gather cows on horses
With broomsticks for a head.
We've all grown up, those days are gone.
We've seen so many changes.
Each one of us has up and left
And now ride on different ranges.
But those childhood games are not forgot.
No need to make a fuss.
'Cuz just to be a cowboy
Takes some kid in each of us.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Working Women
The economic pressures of the world
Are great today,
So women joined the work force
To earn some extra pay.
Now some complain about their duties
And their executive stress.
About the meetings they attend.
And that they're always in a dress.
They claim their lot in life is hard.
Their work is never done.
For when their office closes up,
They say they're work has just begun.
They clean the house and wash the clothes
And send out for some burgers.
'Cuz they're too tired to cook tonight
And their hair's all up in curlers.
Now, the rancher's wife, she stays at home.
And seldom ever gripes.
Though her house may not be fancy,
And there's always frozen pipes.
Each morning starts with breakfast.
There's men who want to eat.
So she's up each day at four o'clock,
The first one on her feet.
She stumbles to the kitchen
Where there's calves upon the floor,
Still warming up and thawing,
Being born the night before.
Then she goes down to the sick pen
And feeds the leppie calf,
Then it's off to town to get the parts
The baler needs to have.
She gets the parts and hurries home,
She has to do the feedin'.
'Cuz today's the hired man's day off,
And her husband's at some meetin'.
She does the chores and fixes fenc,
That top wire sure was saggin'.
And when there's hayin' to be done,
She drives the bale wagon.
When branding time comes each year,
She sure does help a bunch.
She fills the needles, marks the ear,
And finds time to fix us lunch.
She rides the range and checks the cows,
And does some irrigating.
And when the kids come home from school
Their mother's there awaitin'.
She does a good job with the kid's
Of that there is no doubt.
For raising a good family
Is what it's all about.
So, now all you workin' women,
Your duties do not shirk,
'Cuz you could be a rancher's wife,
And not have to go to work!
Are great today,
So women joined the work force
To earn some extra pay.
Now some complain about their duties
And their executive stress.
About the meetings they attend.
And that they're always in a dress.
They claim their lot in life is hard.
Their work is never done.
For when their office closes up,
They say they're work has just begun.
They clean the house and wash the clothes
And send out for some burgers.
'Cuz they're too tired to cook tonight
And their hair's all up in curlers.
Now, the rancher's wife, she stays at home.
And seldom ever gripes.
Though her house may not be fancy,
And there's always frozen pipes.
Each morning starts with breakfast.
There's men who want to eat.
So she's up each day at four o'clock,
The first one on her feet.
She stumbles to the kitchen
Where there's calves upon the floor,
Still warming up and thawing,
Being born the night before.
Then she goes down to the sick pen
And feeds the leppie calf,
Then it's off to town to get the parts
The baler needs to have.
She gets the parts and hurries home,
She has to do the feedin'.
'Cuz today's the hired man's day off,
And her husband's at some meetin'.
She does the chores and fixes fenc,
That top wire sure was saggin'.
And when there's hayin' to be done,
She drives the bale wagon.
When branding time comes each year,
She sure does help a bunch.
She fills the needles, marks the ear,
And finds time to fix us lunch.
She rides the range and checks the cows,
And does some irrigating.
And when the kids come home from school
Their mother's there awaitin'.
She does a good job with the kid's
Of that there is no doubt.
For raising a good family
Is what it's all about.
So, now all you workin' women,
Your duties do not shirk,
'Cuz you could be a rancher's wife,
And not have to go to work!
No Buckaroos
I used to think a little boy
Was for all a man could hope.
A little tyke to bear his name
Who'd learn to ride and rope.
But God has proved me wrong again
Cuase all I got were girls.
There's four of them with great big eyes
And hair that's full of curls.
Now having girls ain't all that bad.
At least that's what I found.
Course when you've got a housefull
Your ideas get changed around.
But girls can teach you lots of things
hat boys just don't know how.
Like patience, when the bathrooms full
And you've got to go right now.
And how can you get angry,
And try to discipline.
When you look into those big sad eyes
And they look up and grin.
Oh girls can drive you crazy
Till you can't hardly think.
Then all they do to make things right
Is look at you and wink.
Each one of mine has taught me things.
Each holds a special place.
That I don't think no little boy
Could possibly replace.
Now I may not have no buckaroos.
I owe that to my Maker.
But what I've got is better yet,
They're "Buckaroo Heartbreakers!"
Was for all a man could hope.
A little tyke to bear his name
Who'd learn to ride and rope.
But God has proved me wrong again
Cuase all I got were girls.
There's four of them with great big eyes
And hair that's full of curls.
Now having girls ain't all that bad.
At least that's what I found.
Course when you've got a housefull
Your ideas get changed around.
But girls can teach you lots of things
hat boys just don't know how.
Like patience, when the bathrooms full
And you've got to go right now.
And how can you get angry,
And try to discipline.
When you look into those big sad eyes
And they look up and grin.
Oh girls can drive you crazy
Till you can't hardly think.
Then all they do to make things right
Is look at you and wink.
Each one of mine has taught me things.
Each holds a special place.
That I don't think no little boy
Could possibly replace.
Now I may not have no buckaroos.
I owe that to my Maker.
But what I've got is better yet,
They're "Buckaroo Heartbreakers!"
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