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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It seemed to Hank it was jes' a couple of hours ago since he'd hit the hay. Now the risin' sun jes' peekin' over the hills heralded another day. His old hound dog, Spooks, tugged at his blanket a-wantin' to play, And his faithful hoss, Ol' Dan, greeted him with a raucous neigh. He pulled on his boots, Stetson hat and bandana, his usual attire, And stirred last nights camp fire embers to bring alive the fire. He ate his usual grub of beans, biscuits, coffee and bacon, And suddenly realized that is was Sunday, if'n he warn't mistaken! "Wahl" he mused, "I don't reckon the boss'll mind if'n I tarry here a spell. I'd jes' like to chat with the Lord this mornin' and tell Him all is well." Hank sat on a log sippin' his joe from a tin cup a-gazin' across the vale, Thinkin', "I don't need no fancy church to worship. They's confinin' as a jail!" "Lord, you know I ain't gittin' rich cowboyin' and that's fer damn sure! Er, 'scuse me Lord fer cussin'. I'm tryin' to make my sinful tongue more pure." "I don't need no earthly possessions when all about me is Yer great Creation. These here mountains, rivers and cowboyin' that I love is my compensation." "I'm a-thankin' Ye fer them eagles soarin' on the wind and fer Yer eternal love, And fer the pristine Colorady sky, the moon and stars shinin' from high above." "And finally Lord, when this old cowpoke comes to the end of the trail, I'd be obliged if'n I could dwell in Yer Corral when I cross that mysterious veil." "Thank Ye Lord fer lendin' me Yer ears and I promise to keep my cussin' at bay." "Wahl boys, we'd better skedaddle and git to herdin' them steers to earn our pay." Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
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