Swing Low Sweet Mustang

[couchgrouch]

Swing Low Sweet MustangSeth rode from Wells Fargos, all over the weston a mustang that ran far, with no need for restmany a midnight posse, just gave up the chaseand went home to their women, without seeing his facethen once in south Texas, Seth turned his back on a clerkand that banker's peashooter, put a red hole in his shirtbut as he lay dying, in that old adobe banka high wind from heaven, carried a horse with wingsswing low sweet mustangfree him from mortal chainslet him ride free, far as his dreams can seeon the wide open plainaway you go, swing low, swing lowswing low sweet mustangTom raced ev'ry blacktop, Dallas to Abilenehis ride flew like a bullet, same as Steve McQueen'sso crowds gathered that night, to watch old Tom draga dusty black bandana, was his checkered flagseconds later he crossed, that final finish linewhen he blew that tire, he must've rolled twenty timessomeone laid that bandana, on his pale white facethen a mystery ride swept in, and took poor Tom awayswing low sweet mustangfree him from mortal chainslet him ride free, far as his dreams can seeon the wide open plainaway you go, swing low, swing lowswing low sweet mustangfor those who live without limitsknowing no fearfor those who spend ev'ry minutepushing frontiersswing low sweet mustangfree him from mortal chainslet him ride free, far as his dreams can seeon the wide open plainaway you go, swing low, swing lowswing low sweet mustang(c)2004 Robert George