Angel Trail Cowboy Poetry True Story

Dry as Hell, not a rain cloud in sight The grass is dead and the cattle need to be fed At the end of another day Hot cup of coffee, by the campfire light Saddle for a pillow, sitting on his bed Dreaming of yesterday Gun fights, trail drives, senoritas too Barb wire, lighting, a little tequila a long the way Rattle snakes, coyotes howling at a full moon Hard times and bad luck was nothing new He knew that he would soon draw his pay He knew the trail end would be coming soon Dust storms, thunder is rolling No sugar and the coffee is bitter But this old life is good Cattle are hungry and cows are bawling Hell, he is no quitter He would not change it if he could Then a barb wire pain tore through his chest His hat turned into a halo and spurs into wings It was quick as he hit the ground as his soul set sail He knew that he had done his best And that is what this old life brings The angels took him home that night on Angel Trail