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Cowboy Childhood Poems | Cowboy Poems About Childhood

These Cowboy Childhood poems are examples of Cowboy poems about Childhood. These are the best examples of Cowboy Childhood poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Cowboy | |

Time Flies

Wearing Daddy's boots & cowboy hat & not much in between
Why, Momma, ain't she just about the prettiest baby you've ever seen?
I'm sure wishing she was talking, reading her mind is quite a trick
And she's sure getting awful heavy, I hope she's walking quick 

Whoa there, sassy, Momma look at her running wild
Why I am not sure there ever was a more rambunctious child
Life sure was a picnic when we could just bundle her up & go
Now I get tuckered just watching her, she's a pint size dynamo 

Waist length braids, a gap tooth grin & freckled face
That's our girl, Momma, her calf just took first place
How old is she now, six? No, she can't possibly be eight
Seems she is growing up faster than I'd anticipate 

Well I'll be, look at her standing on the stairs
in a fancy gown, heels & make up putting on womanly airs
this young girl looking back at me, yesterday she was only seven
Now there's a young buck staring at her like he's just seen heaven
 
Wearing a cap & gown, her diploma held high
Look, Momma, there's our girl, getting ready to give her wings a try
Wasn't it just yesterday she was afraid of the monsters under the bed?
Now she's off to college, her own path to tread

Wearing Grandma's pearls & a gown of antique white
Now, Momma, don't start fussing, everything will be all right
Wasn't it just yesterday, I was wishing she was talking?
Now the music is playing & down the aisle we're walking 

Wearing Grandpa's boots & cowboy hat & nothing in between
Why Grandma ain't that the prettiest grandbaby you've ever seen?
Now listen, Sassy, don't go wishing for her to grow up so fast
Treasure each & every moment, create a memory to last 

Be mindful of what you wish for when your babes are small
For in just the blink of an eye, they won't be small at all
You dream of turning back the clock & know you never will
For time flies, just as surely as you wish it would stand still 


Details | Rhyme | |

This is me

My knees were the things that 
kept me up and my skin is my 
cutting board my eyes are the 
rain clouds to the fire running 
down my arms and my heart is 
the fire place that keeps me 
burning so calm


Details | Ballade | |

LUCKY GIRL

From the dust and dirt of this little town
In this old saloon since I was a child 
You'd come in calling me your lucky girl
Your sweet attention, oh it drove me wild

I remember when I was that little girl
Dreamed there was a prince just for me
You'd ride up on your horse and rescue
With strength and courage.. set me free

I grew up fantasizing we'd get together
I'd be the hand dealt that you would play
You'd hold my secrets, keep my thoughts
I'd be the only winner, what do ya say..

I'm dying inside to be your lucky girl
And if I was there'd be nothing more
Nothing more that I would want to do
Than share my sweet luck with you

Yeah, I'd share my luck in the mornings
share it in the meadow and in the woods
I'd share my luck in the evening time
In the moonlight, boy.. It would be good

I'd share my luck while I'm still young
You're amazing, wild flower..  I would be
When we'd grow old you'd still feel my luck
Every time you'd make love to me
Make love to me

I'm dying inside to be your lucky girl
And if I was there'd be nothing more
Nothing more that I would want to do
Than share my sweet luck with you

Share my sweet luck with you..
Make love to me

Contest: Jerry's  "A Town Called Rotgut"
Date: 7-28-14
Poet: Lyric Man


Details | Couplet | |

Fastest Gun In The West

<                                      Now hold on there Tex !
                                        Let me get     dressed  !


                                        Let me saddle up my horse
                                        To trollop around this Halloween course


                                        Got on my chaps
                                        My spurs and cowboy hat


                                       Replica's of forty five's
                                       Riding on my hips very high


                                       With lasso in my hand
                                       This little cowboy has a plan
                                       

                                  
                                      So all you ghost and goblins
                                      It's candies bounty I'll be coming an robbing

                              
                                      And I'll be taking  loot for mummy
                                      And for my daddy who has a bigger tummy










                                                  Happy Halloween To All
                                   Especially little tikes who are so cute and small





Entry For 
Skat's 
Halloween Costume Contest
G.L. All
                                      

 
                                      
                                       


                                     

                                     
                                       


Details | Cowboy | |

Cowboy Legacy

There’s a legacy inside him,
As he sits upon his steed;
His heart is filled with honesty,
Not perjury or greed;

He rides the same old range,
That his father rode before;
And it’s been that way for forever,
A hundred years or more;

Pushin’ cattle, brandin’ calves,
That is a cowboy’s life;
Someday he may settle down,
And make some girl his wife;

He’s spent so many lonely nights,
Sleeping under the stars,
He hasn’t got a tattoo,
What he has are battle scars;

There’s a rip across his stomach,
From a rangy longhorn steer;
And even though it hurt like hell,
He never shed a tear;

He always outs on a brave face,
Emotions locked inside;
And for his cowboy heritage,
He feels only pride.


Details | Cowboy | |

Untitled

Tainted love 
or tired love?
Smug attitudes
and weak games
Look at you!
Your such a lame!
Me cry?! Ha! Not no more!
NOT EVER!
Five point five years
What a joke?!
All you do is lie
Keep smoking your life away!
Wake up before its too late!
Before this love turns into hate!
Your too old to act this way!
Your too comfortable
You cant stay!
In my life!
In my way!
Goodbye to you!!!


Details | Rhyme | |

My poor meatball a fistful of spaghetti

The underwear bandits watch the tv matinee                                                                   The irony the tragedy the comedy dubbed                                                                         The spaggetti western but we just ran to play                                                                 cowboys and indians until it was time for the tub                                                          The violence of the real world was yet unknown                                                               We had are cap guns a blazing a hero of the age                                                             the rubber tipped arrows hits the mark as shown                                                         friendships grow helping the wounded in the day                                                      someone yells the one liner and falls to ground                                                                rushing to the aid of the helpless was the norm                                                          Innocence is betrayed those days they can't be found                                                       the violence learned from lighting and storm                                                                     the underwer bandits have road into the sunset                                                                 but the friendships gained is what I like best


Details | Cowboy | |

Buckaroo Days

Hey there Buckaroo
what’s your hurry?
Momma hollered after
her pride ‘n joy

she smiled swiftly
as little boots clomped
with spurs jingle janglin’
across the kitchen floor

“Aw Momma, don’t worry!
I’ll be home before dinner
but I drew the rank bronc
It’s a sure winner!”

Then whistling Lil Joe
and roping the cat
her boy mounted up
on his trusty hobby horse

“Don’t slam the door”
She said with a laugh
has the hinges rattled
& the old screen door crashed

He was already gone
riding silver screen dreams
that old grey black hat
setting low on his ears

Hey there Lil Buckaroo
Don’t be in such a hurry
Time passes quick enough
You still have stick ponies to curry

Too soon you’ll grow tall
& become a young man
chasing girls & fast cars
enjoy your childhood while you can

In a blink of an eye
or faster than that
you’ll no longer wear  boots
toss a rope or wear that old hat

You’ll follow your own path
but where ever it leads
I hope you remember
Your Lil Buckaroo deeds

Hey Lil Buckaroo
slow down, what’s your hurry?
Don’t gallop too quickly
through these Buckaroo Days

© February 2003


Details | Cowboy | |

The Lone Ranger, Tad & Me

Riding the quarter slot pony
at Woolworth’s five & dime
Would send this half pint cowgirl
back to another time

I was Calamity Jane riding hell bent
to bring the US mail,
Annie Oakley, with dead eye aim,
shooting lint specks off a nail,

In my games of Cowboy & Indian
everyone would win
The Lone Ranger & Tonto
were my two bestest friends

Out in the back yard,
on my old swing set
I created memories
that I will never forget

I would swing & sing for hours
loud enough for the world to hear
I rode the meanest broncs
never showed a bit of fear

I dreamed of Being like Tad or Fox
Weren’t nobody putting me in a china box
while momma dreamed of frills & lace
In my dreams, I always rode ahead of the race

I always wore a white hat
& never lost a fight
Evil wore a black hat
& a heart as black as night

I find myself wishing
more often here of late
That I could return again
to that childhood age of eight

When everything made more sense
& innocence wasn’t lost
I wonder, if I turned back time,
what would be the cost?


© April 2005


Details | Cowboy | |

Last Suburban Cowboy

He's the last of the suburban cowboys
At the end of the cul-de-sac.
Oh, he may still have that Western Channel
To bring his memories right back--
But those days of Roy Rogers and Trigger,
They're now just fading to black--
He's riding alone in his condo home
And that's the gall dern sad fact.

He ate those sweet Sugar Pops with ol' Jingles--
Watched all those westerns on TV--
Drank down all that cold milk for Hopalong--
Wore cowboy hats and boots with glee.
He had him a fine Rifleman's rifle,
Gene Autry's new cap guns for kids to see--
But he sure did hate all that real estate
That kept him from being free.

He may be the last suburban cowboy
'Cause kids now do the video game--
But in his mind he's still young Rex Allen
Riding over that painted plain.
But he likes to think the guys in white hats
Have not all gone down in a flame--
'Cause deep in his heart there still is a part
That seeks out the cowboy's name.


Details | Cowboy | |

Riding Drag For Grandpa

Mine was not a normal childhood or so I have been told
But I wouldn’t trade one day of it for all of Solomon’s gold
For I have been horseback since I was three years old

My grandpa cut me out a mount, a sturdy Quarterhorse bay
And helped me climb up on top & led me out of harm’s way
They bunched the cows & grandpa said “Bit, you’ll be riding drag today”

I heard a cowboy snicker & I heard another asking “Why?”
Grandpa just said, “She might be a “little bit” but she has a lot of try”
They knew it was best not to argue for he had that gleam in his eye

We must have pushed those cows for ten hot & dusty miles
But I knew not to whine for it wasn’t the cowboy style
So every time Grandpa would look back I’d do my best to smile

Now there are those who’ll tell you that riding drag is no place to be
But though I ate two lifetimes of dust I have to disagree
For I was riding drag for Grandpa & that was good enough for me

Now I’ll never make a roper much to Grandpa’s chagrin
He knew that I’d never rope my way to a jackpot win
I am walking proof that tossing true ain’t genetically built in

He knew with me on drag the day would end without a wreck
For though I might not ever settle one loop on a steer neck
I’d always done what I was asked & earned Grandpa’s respect

Grandpa knew that I would do my best to always make it right
He’d seen me & that old Bay keep the stragglers tucked tight
And he knew that with me on drag they’d all come home at night

I rode that bay for ten spring gathers, bringing up the rear
Some of the cowboys they still snickered but I pretended not to hear
I cared little for what they thought of me & wouldn’t waste a tear

They might think that riding drag was a child’s game to me
But though I ate three lifetimes of dust I have to disagree
For I was riding drag for Grandpa & that was good enough for me


Details | Cowboy | |

Time Flies

You’ve just been born.
You’re a brand new kid.

When you first learned to walk
you stumbled a bit.
When you didn’t get your way
you threw your 2 year old fit.

Now you’ve started kindergarten
And you’re learning how to add 2+2.
You’re so excited about your first field trip
to the zoo.

Now you have just started 8th grade
and your trying to find yourself.
But remember that your destiny isn’t found on 
any bookshelf.

You are now 18 and your
at your graduation.
Your not sure which college you should go to,
maybe somewhere across the nation.

You’re now 32 years old 
and you are married and have 2 kids.
You watch them walk
 and stumble. You watch them
throw a fit.
You watch them as they tell you all about their
first field trip.

You watch them find themselves
and you watch them
 at their graduation.
You watch as they get older
and have their own kids to watch
in anticipation.


Details | Cowboy | |

That Cowboy Ain't Crazy Song on CD

Yes, with pride inside...every cowboy rides...
even the very first...
and every rider decides, what hide to ride...
knowing they may hit the dirt,

And that cowboy ain't crazy...
ridin' that buckin' horse..
and that rider does amaze me...
astride that ropin' horse...


And that cowboy is blazingly...
ridin that cuttin' horse...
No that jockey can't be lazy...
winnin' on a racin' horse...

And no cowboy can hide what's deep inside...
what's country right from birth...
and every rider alive...rides with pride...
even the very first....

Even a youngster finds pleasure...
rockin' on a rockin' horse...
and a youngster learns to treasure....
playin' cowboy...yes, of course....

Yes, with pride inside, every cowboy rides...
even the very first...
and every rider decides, what hide to ride...
knowing they may hit the dirt...

And no cowboy can hide, what's deep inside...
what's country right from birth...
yes, every rider alive, rides with pride....
for every moments worth....

Ya'll.....that cowboy ain't crazy...
just a little country on a horse.


Details | Cowboy | |

WILD STICKHORSE REMUDA

   Ponytails and blue jeans 
Sat at Papaw's knee, 
Watching as he whittled 
On old branches from a tree. 
    And while he talked of cowboys 
And big old Texas ranches, 
He trimmed away the rough spots, 
While I dreamed of pony dances. 

     A wild stick horse remuda 
Began to run and play,
With every loving stroke,  
As he peeled the bark away.
     Using his "Old Timer"  
And carving in my brand, 
The best that he could find
And cut and shape with his own hand. 

     Now, each one of them was special,
And I felt I was too, 
As they kicked up dust behind 
This cowgirl buckaroo. 
     With reins of pink hair ribbon, 
Shoe strings and baling twine, 
There was "Buckin' Birch" and "Oakie," 
And "Ole Sticky" made of pine, 

     "Sassafras," and "Blackjack," 
"Willow," "Blaze," and "Scat," 
I never did corral 'em -- 
I just left 'em where they sat. 
     But next mornin', on the front porch, 
'stead of roamin' wild and free, 
They'd found their hitchin' rail, 
‘cause Papaw lined 'em up for me. 
  
     Along our trails together 
There were many lessons learned, 
Like bein' a cowboy through and through 
Is something that you earn 
     We'd partner up together, 
And team up in cahoots,
Once he defied my Mama,
Bought me red cowboy boots. 

     And often, when I wondered 
What to do on down the road, 
He'd always tell me, "little girl, 
When you get there you will know," 
     Sometimes you have to let things go, 
Sometimes you stand and fight, 
And anything worth doin', 
Is still worth doin' right. 

     With my wild stick horse remuda, 
We rode the range for miles, 
I knew I'd won my Papaw's heart 
By the way he'd laugh and smile, 
     I still have his sweat-stained Stetson, 
His boots, and his old knife, 
Sometimes I take them out 
Just to measure up my life. 
      
     And hold him closer to my heart, 
And know I have to try, 
To live up to the honor 
Of the wonder-days gone by. 
     On my stick horse remuda,
I learned the cowboy way, 
I’d give up everything I own 
To ride with him today. 

    My wild stick horse remuda 
Was quite the varied band, 
Born and bred with me in mind 
And trained by his own hand. 
     I’m longing for the legends, 
And the way we used to roam, 
With my wild stick horse remuda, 
And the man that we called "Home." 



Details | Cowboy | |

The Roy Rogers Range

Oh, I wish that this old world
Was like the Roy Rogers’ range—
Where every boy and girl
Didn’t have to view folks strange.

It used to be safe outside—
All the children could go play—
But now they worry and hide
In their homes both night and day.

Seems there’s just too many ways
That our kids can now be harmed—
They’ve missed their innocent days—
Their lives are no longer charmed. 

We played all day with no care—
Didn’t know ‘bout an upper—
Ball games left no time to spare,
Till mom’s called us to supper.

Yes, those were different times, 
When sex was not all we thought—
And news was not just more crimes—
What kind of world have we got?

I wish we could relive days
When Roy Rogers kept us straight—
Before things became a maze
Of drugs, thugs and war and hate.    

I wish we did not grow up
To a world that’s now so strange—
And death drank not of our cup,
Like on a Roy Rogers’ range. 


Details | Cowboy | |

Sunset Cowboys

Roy Rogers and Red Ryder rode on that black and white stage—
It was the best of times, to be a kid of any age.

Gene Autry, Hopalong Cassidy – that Durango Kid—
They kept us shootin’ outlaws and drinkin’ milk – yes, they did!

We ate up that cereal and sent away for those things,
Like trick lassos, milk mugs, masks and those plastic cowboy rings.

It was another time of Mix and Tim McCoy, I’ve heard--  
When men rode horses and ‘cowboy’ weren’t a four-letter word!

They have not rode into sunsets, as they were apt to do—
They’re now on the mountaintops of the minds of me and you.


Details | Cowboy | |

Mighty Fine Spurs

“Ya got some mighty fine spurs to wear,”
My ol’ grand pap used to day.
When I came up shy when braidin’ hair
From my ol’ dun horse or bay.

It was just his way of tellin’ me
That I come up a bit short,
In some endeavor I could not see
And did not care for a snort!

I did not quite know what grand pap meant
‘Bout those spurs I did not have—
I thought it just some talkin’ ill spent
To heal my young wounds like salve.

But on that sad day my grand pap died,
I knew the truth of his words—
He gave me those silver spurs and cried
As I heard the sound of birds.

“Ya got some mighty fine spurs to wear,”
My grand pap said on that day,
“So wear them proudly and do not care
What some fool folks just might say.”

And though those spurs are ol’ and tarnished,
I wear them with all my pride—
‘Cause grand pap told the truth unvarnished
On the final day he died.

“Ya got some mighty fine spurs to wear”—
Those words stick now in their way—
“I got some mighty fine spurs to wear”—
My son will wear them some day. 


Details | Ballad | |

Just One Last Waltz

The cowboy took her in his arms
and waltzed her round the floor.
He told her how much he loved her
how he couldn't love her more.

From the moment he first saw her
when he'd held her in his arms,
he'd vowed to keep her safe
from any kind of harm.

They talked about the days just past
when she had climbed up on his knee
about the time he hung her swing
up in an old pine tree.

The first horse that he had bought her
a paint gelding she called"Friend."
They had some fine adventures
and she could ride him like the wind.

Somehow, someplace his little cowgirl
had become a woman grown
and today was her grand wedding day
she was no longer his alone.

They waltzed around the room once 
more a tear was in his eye,
"Oh, Daddy, don't you do that or you're
gonna make me cry!"

He whispered, "You're the darling of my heart, 
I just wanted you to know."
As he held her close just one last time
it was hard to let her go.

He took her hand and he gave her
to the young cowboy by her side
who had stole away his baby girl
this lovely glowing bride.

But, he whispered as she turned away
"I love you, I hope you'll always know...
and then he turned and blew a kiss
and then he let her go.


Details | Cowboy | |

Dirt Road

     The traffic flies by
At a fast-paced clip
They say on a warm day
It's a nice little trip
The county came in
And smoothed out the road
Past the porch where we sat
And learned of "The Code"

     In my mind I still see him
Though he is long gone
And I still hear the words
To his old Cowboy songs
He spoke of the cow trails
And called them by name
Said the dust all around us
Was one and the same.

     He told us the stories
Of the days that were past
We looked to the future
Swore we'd make them last
We rode our stick ponies
And we rounded up strays
And we knew we'd be Cowboys
For all of our days.

     The buildings stand empty
A testimony to time
But they're filled with the dreams
That I still call mine
You can blacktop a road
But they will always be there
Those dust covered memories
That hang in the air.

     They've paved the dirt road
That rolls by the farm
Where we laughed and played Cowboy
In the fields and the barn
And we learned where we came from
And who we could be
And the dust of that dirt road
Is still part of me.


Details | Cowboy | |

Those Odessa Days

(A remembrance of driving to the auction in Odessa, Missouri.)

You’re bumpin’ down the highway in that ol’ pickup truck,
Just a kid slowly tunin’ in a radio that plays—
Headin’ for the stock auction with your dad and some luck—
A part of history, back in those Odessa days.

Dad will be biddin’ on some calves to haul way back home—
He fancies doin’ more farmin’ like in younger days—
He left the farm more than twenty years ago to roam,
To find a town job and turn his back on farmin’ ways.

But the land stays in your blood and someday you go back,
If not in bone and muscle, at least within your mind—
And you seek a part of youth—that’s just a natural fact,
For you’re always on the outlook for what you’ll never find.

You roll past green pastures and that churnin’ Mighty Mo,
Count the silos, barns and the cattle as you drive past—
Music fills the truck with songs of love and eatin’ crow—
Cowboys, beer, bar fights and pickups—things that never last. 

That ol’ black pickup rattles and bucks just like a bronc,
Its days, just like the horses, will soon come to an end—
And as we reach the auction, my dad pulls up to honk:
A ritual of completion for a son and now a friend.

And when we head on home with those calves all loaded up,
We’ll turn on that radio and sing in one sweet haze—
For in just a few years, there will sit dad’s empty cup
And there will just be memories of those Odessa days.        



Details | Cowboy | |

Gabby Hayes Was Right

Gabby Hayes once said it best
Of an icon of the West:

“It’s Hoppy’s laugh I recall
As we rode on down the line—
Like water over a fall,
Makin’ the whole world just fine.”

Memories now ride the night,
Knowing Gabby Hayes was right.


Details | Cowboy | |

Don't Call Me No Cowboy

The little boy threw down his hat
And marched right from the room—
The TV on with nightly news
Of murder, muggings and doom.

The grandpa called out to the hall,
“What’s the matter lil’ pard?
Come back in here and cowboy up,
Don’t be takin’ life so hard!”

The kid slunk back into the room,
This grandson they named Roy,
And with disgust and mistrust said,
“Don’t call me no cowboy!”

“I reckon that you’re right upset,”
His granddad did allow,
“Pick up your brand new cowboy hat
And let’s walk to the corral.”

Then as they leaned on that old fence
That seldom now was used,
The old cowpoke now listened to
His grandson vent his blues:

“I keep hearin’ on the TV,”
Slowly spewed the little lad,
“How some wild folks are just “cowboys”
And ain’t nothin’ but pure bad.  

“They even called our president
A cowboy behind his back—
Like it was something terrible
Or something that he did lack.”

The granddad stroked his long mustache,
Then told that boy what’s so—
“Son, bein’ a cowboy’s a good thing
And don’t let them tell you no.

“We’re keepers of a heritage
That started in the Old West
With good God-fearin’ settlers
That worked hard and gave their best.

“But like all folks, creeds and races,
There’s the bad and the good—
It just takes some figurin’ out
To see where most folks stood.

“There’s always them that question us
Because we don’t seem real
And try to hoe an honest path
And plant instead of steal.

“A cowboy’s handshake is his word—
He’ll risk his life for what’s right-- 
He loves his country, that’s for sure
And defend her with his might!

“Some may think that he’s just too brash
And too quick with his gun—
He don’t ride life’s ol’ middle road—
He does what needs to be done!

“The cowboy helped build this country—
In that we can be proud—
Tell ‘em you’ll always be a cowboy
And tell ‘em good and loud!”

The little boy looked up relieved
And donned his cowboy hat—
“I’m sure proud to be a cowboy!”
And that was the end of that.


Details | Cowboy | |

Gabby Hayes' Hat

Those days of faithful sidekicks have all but passed us by,
We’d rather watch car crashes or someone blown sky-high.
Playing the second fiddle was Gabby’s first jackpot:
For Tom Tyler, Hoppy, Roy and even Randolph Scott.
But in a world gone loco and too-filled with this and that,
We still wonder what became of Gabby Hayes’ hat.

He was the shabby coot we could barely comprehend,
But when all the chips were down, we knew just who to send.
His hat was folded back, dog-eared, battered and threadbare—
Rough and scratchy like his face, but he was always there.
But now too few remember his rasping codger chat—
We wish the world was simple as Gabby Hayes’ hat.
 
Is it now in a museum or sold for cold, hard cash
Or buried there with him or thrown away with the trash?
They just don’t make any sidekicks like Gabby Hayes now,
With that gray-whiskered mug, long hair and that furrowed brow.
And there’s no singing cowboys unless from Nashville town—
And now they just wear the hats but not the cowboy crown.
Yet as the world passes by and we grow old and fat,
We still wonder what became of Gabby Hayes’ hat.
  


Details | Cowboy | |

Grandpa's Shaving Mirror

On life’s sweet sage trail, there are many things we see:
Like grandfather’s ranch house where good times used to be.
There’s a ancient shaving mirror hung on a nail,
That he used to shave his face each day without fail.

You wonder as you gaze, what that mirror could tell—
Before time’s closing night darkened the light and fell.
Did he see an old man or what he used to be?
Or only wild roses when he was young and free?

Was he like us now, and remembered just the best?
Or did his scars go deeper to his final rest?
And as we look into that old shaving mirror—
Will we think on life’s doubts and then see them clearer?

For all the world’s a looking glass we stare into—
And what we see must please us before we are through.
Yes, I still have that mirror, but I seldom look—
In it I see gramps and he reads me like a book.

So now I hide it away like grandpa’s old spurs
And endure these modern times as this old world whirs.
Yet in darkest moments, I look into that glass
And know that like grandfathers – things we love must pass.
 


Details | Cowboy | |

The Saddle of Youthful Days

Oh, the stirrups sway in the breeze
And slick leather shines in the sun,
As he slings it on the wood fence
With calloused hands of sky dark dun.

It’s the saddle of youthful days,
The one he rode so long ago—
The fenders are worn and rotten,
The hand tooling just a shadow.

Now as he cleans out the horse barn,
He throws away part of this past—
There’s not much left that’s worth keeping—
It’s only memories that last.

He’s had his share of fine leather,
Silver conchos and the best tack—
But he saved his youthful saddle
To conjure things that won’t come back.

It was a gift from his father—
The first that was just his alone—
He still remembers the fresh smell
Of that saddle his dad brought home.

He recalls all the days and nights,
He rode in the bad times and good,
How his father was stern but right—
How often he misunderstood.

And he can still see the first girl 
That he let ride it in his place—
And he can see her honey skin,
But he can’t quite recall her face.

Yet, soon that saddle won’t be his—
It will pass to the first grandson—
Free now to ride just one more time
Down the long trail that life begun.  
 
Oh, the stirrups sway in the breeze
And roan clouds have herded the sun—
He packs up his youthful saddle,
Knowing soon his ride will be done.


Details | Cowboy | |

When Cowboys Rode Away

There were clear, sunny mornings with the rustle of leaves,
A patchwork of sunlight beneath the wind-blown trees--
There were round-ups and long rides that lasted all the day,
In times of our innocence when cowboys rode away.

Hopalong, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers and Lash LaRue,
We grew up with them in movies--their days were too few.
They stood for truth; what was right; they always had their say,
America was not the same when cowboys rode away.

The West is gone, it's true--there are no cowboys anymore--
At least not like the old ones that we knew before.
We make our worlds to please ourselves with our yesterday--
You'll find my world gone years ago, when cowboys rode away.