Don'T Ever Sell Your Saddle

It’s been ‘bout thirty years now, to this Christmas day And I can still hear those wise words that Dad did say: “Don’t ever sell your saddle, don’t quit balin’ hay— When ya give your word, keep it—it’s a real man’s way.” I wish that I could swear I’ve lived up to his words, But like the truth sometimes, they’ve flown off with the birds. It’s not to say I’ve tired, and mostly I’ve been true— But if I could do things over, there’s some I’d undo. Well, I’m still balin’ hay and my word I always keep, I’ve got a good woman and I sing the kids to sleep. We keep the ranch a goin’ and we’re doin’ just fine, But I regret sellin’ Dad’s saddle back in ninety-nine. Times were tough and we scraped every cent that year— At a Christmas eve auction sold some cows, a steer— Then it came down to Dad’s saddle and some ol’ tack— ‘Course that saddle brought the most cash and that’s a fact. Couldn’t figure out who bought it—never seen ‘em before— When he bought that saddle, he was quick out the door. One year later, there came a knock on Christmas day— There stood the stranger with Dad’s saddle and he did say: “Fixed it up and brought it back—this is where it should be— Your Dad, me and Zack, used to cowboy and they told me A man shouldn’t sell his saddle, so here it is again— Think of it as a gift from someone who was a friend.” (continued)