High Plains Cowboy

[couchgrouch]

High Plains CowboyI watched that bull grazing the evening grassand recalled when he was but a wobbly calfI still saw the mournful day he was bornhow high noon was black with coming stormsI had to help cos he was twisted insidehe nuzzled his mama in the rain after she diedcome morning I got some milk from the cookand bottlefed him down by a singing brooksometimes he'd stray where weeds grow wild n longbut rather than a rope I'd fetch him with the songof a high plains cowboywho rides the sage and mesquitewhose kind and faithful heartand keen eye in the darkwatches over the weakby the moon on a far plateauI scout trails for all belowI'm a high plains cowboywhen I was born my pa was eight months in the penI started sneakin' mama's whiskey 'fore I was tenthen years ago someone left a Bible by my tater stewafter reading it all night I felt born anewthen last year I took a hard fall in Abilenesometimes my aching bones beg for rye in my canteenmy fist clenched on my saddlehorn at nightis the only sign of the inner war I fightthen I hear the cook sing Nearer My God to Theeand like a hand from nowhere that song leads me freelike a high plains cowboywho rides the sage and mesquitewhose kind and faithful heartand keen eye in the darkwatches over the weakby the moon on a far plateauI scout trails for all belowI'm a high plains cowboywell, men ain't much more than clay and waterso people liken the Good Lord to a potterbut the way he's gently led me from what's wrongwith the help of friends and a song on the breezeI'd say that He'sa high plains cowboywho rides the sage and mesquitewhose kind and faithful heartand keen eye in the darkwatches over the weakby the moon on a far plateauHe scouts trails for all belowlike a high plains cowboy(c)2006 Robert George