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Cowboy Lyric Poems | Cowboy Poems About Lyric

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

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Details | Cowboy | |

New Mexico

     The first time that you see her, She will steal your soul away,
And replace it with a being of her own,
Her white sands will glisten, underneath turquoise skies,
And make your heart always long, for New Mexico.

     There is magic in her mountains, secrets in her sage,
A special kind of wisdom, that only comes with age.
The music of her canyons, will echo and roll,
And fill your life with desire, for New Mexico.

     She'll captivate your spirit, keep it in possession there,
No matter where you are, you smell cedar in the air.
The song she sings you, comes from long ago,
And haunts you with a passion, for New Mexico.

     You understand the stillness, of a desert afternoon,
You're enchanted by the beauty, of yucca in bloom,
While you wonder at the colors, transformed by the sun's glow,
Your thoughts are of being, in New Mexico.

     Voices of the past, warriors and pioneers,
Urge you with their stories, of laughter and tears.
An unsettled feeling, is all you have to show,
As you roam familiar trails, back to New Mexico.

     Some will call her savage, some will call her wild,
In ever fleeting shadows, she remains but a child.
This boldness of character is restless and untamed,
Gentled only by The Power, that takes on many names.

     You'll hear her in the night sometimes, when Westward breezes blow,
And to fill that empty feeling, you know you have to go,
For once you hold her in your eyes, nothing else can make you whole,
And you're never really home again, until you're in New Mexico.


Details | Lyric | |

Please Help Me, Re-lyric

Please help me, I've fallen
In Lust with You.
You're just so damn sexy,
That's why I'm hittin' on you.
You don't have to love me,
Some good sex will do.
Please help me, I've fallen
In Lust with You.

Yes, you turned me on
When I saw you walk in...
The face of an Angel,
A body just made for Sin.
Now, I may be real horny,
But one thing is true:
What would satisfy me, Girl
Would be to satisfy You.

So please help me, I've fallen
In Lust with You; 
And I hope that you're fallin'
In Lust with me too;
But if not, then please fake it,
Please don't leave me "blue"...
Please help me, I've fallen
In  Lust  with  You.


Details | Ballad | |

What Cowboys Do

On that ranch in the west.
We got us a cowboy dude.
On that ranch in the west.
We do what cowboys do.

Six gun by his hand.
He's carrying a shotgun too.
On that ranch in the west.
We got us a cowboy dude.

Gotta rope at his side.
Gonna ride and rope today.
Gotta rope at his side.
Gonna bring them cattle this way.

On that ranch in the west.
We got us a cowboy dude.
On that ranch in the west.
We do what cowboys do.

When them cows come home.
We'll get ourselves some rest.
When them cows come home.
We'll put ourselves to the test.

I think I'll go out.
And pitch myself a tent.
I think I'll go out.
And avoid from paying the rent.

On that ranch in the west.
We got us a cowboy dude.
On that ranch in the west.
We do what cowboys do.

On that ranch in the west.
We got us a cowboy dude.
On that ranch in the west.
We do what cowboys do.

We just do what cowboys do.
We just do what cowboys do.
We just do what cowboys do...

Country Western Song Lyric By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2004,2014..
ALL rights reseved..


Details | Cowboy | |

Ode To A Blueberry Roan

I was heading to the bunkhouse, after a wild night on the town
dancing & romancing & one too many round
Back in my wild & woolly days, one more rowdy Saturday night
full of cheap beer & whiskey & the necessary fight
I set Ol' Gus on auto pilot, he knew the way back to the spread
And I set to fighting with those rotgut demons dancing in my head
We were getting pretty close to home, so I eased up on the bit
when all of a sudden that dang horse he up & quit
His ears were all pricked forward, listening quite intense
I caught a drift of what might pass for music, somewhere beyond the fence
It took a lot of persuading, cussing & cajoling
but I got ol' Gus headed for all the caterwauling 
the sound got more peculiar as we crested the hill
the memory of what I saw that moonlit night stays with me still
for I had stumbled on a peculiar party, hosted by a peg leg dog
and there was a one eyed pole cat doing comedic monologue
A Blueberry Roan soon took the stage, singing Motley Crue
I swear I saw a big ol' ornery hog with a "born to squeal" tattoo
There were bulls & Heifers dancing, I couldn't believe my eyes
why those bovine wore spikes and body piercings, in places utterly unwise
There where horses with mohawk hairdos head banging to the song
I swear to you, Ol' Gus, he began to sway & sing along
Now I know what you're thinking & I most heartily agree
it was the moon & wind playing tricks, along with rotgut whiskey
You city folks can keep your pink elephants parading in tutus
for this cowboy was shown the light by a Roan in blue suede shoes
I gave up hell raising & carousing, said so long to the honky-tonk life
Happy now to stick to ranching & dancing under the moon with my wife
But every now & again, when the wind blows & the moon is shining bright
I swear I can hear the livestock laughing & head banging through the night


Details | Cowboy | |

NIGHTMARES & WHISKEY

In a room stark & white 
A nightmare he will ride tonight 
Twisted sheets in a rider's grip 
as he settles in for that fateful trip 
silently he screams & shouts 
This time there'll be no turn out 
The final clash of beast & man 
In the mind's arena plays out again 
Once was a time he was among the best 
Until that Brahma stepped on his chest 
Now he's locked in a ride he can't quit 
as his wife & his family at his bedside sit 
How he longs to be up & out of this bed 
Away from the demons in his head 
But you can't drown a nightmare in morphine 
And every night he rigs up again 

In a room stark & white 
She'll replay the ride tonight 
"Just one more ride & I'm done 
I've got to help raise our son" 
He'd said as he climbed in the chute 
and straddled that Brahma brute 
With a nod & a prayer, he marked out 
His last would be his best, no doubt 
Then, with a sudden twist & a flash of horn 
The cowboy from his seat was torn 
She watched him fall & struggle to rise 
Numb to the crowd's horrified cries 
Now she sits here each night without rest 
Cradling their baby boy close to her chest 
How she longs to have him hold her near 
Later, she reaches for the bottle to chase the fear 
But you can't drown a nightmare in whiskey 
And every night she rigs up again 

Under the arena's bright lights 
He'll dance with a nightmare tonight 
Wearing a greasepaint smile to hide the pain 
He plays out that fateful ride again 
One step out of rhythm & rhyme 
He'd lost the race against Brahma & time 
Word's haunt him still of a Cowboy's last request 
After that Brahma had stomped on his chest "Tell Katie I love her & I'm sorry for this" 
"If I'd listened to her, I'd not be in this mess" 
"You & the boys take care of her & my son" 
"I hear the chopper landing, guess this ride is done" 
How he wishes he could run that race once more 
The memory pushes him hard, it won't be ignored 
But you can't mask a nightmare with greasepaint 
And every night he rigs up again 

A wild Bullrider, loved one or clown 
no matter the poison the memory won't drown 
Nightmares, whiskey, greasepaint or morphine 
Can't kill the demons that ride through your dreams


Details | Ballad | |

FLOWERS ON A FRIDAY

It was bucking bulls and cowboy busting broncos
And the challenge that accompanied each ride
That consumed the heart and mind of my young cowboy
And this fact my Buddy never tried to hide. 
I recall the time we met in Kelly’s diner
He was busted up and feeling rather sore
But the cheque that paid the tab that I presented
Seemed to him to somehow even up the score.

He had eaten there that week and got acquainted,
And I somehow got to know this cowboy’s mind
while the flowers that he gave me on that Friday
Surely showed beside his toughness, he was kind.
We were married in the summer six months later,
On a Friday I recall so very well,
Because Fridays he would always buy me flowers
And then go and ride those bulls and broncs from hell.

Buddy always bought me flowers on a Friday
As he knew I feared the rides that lay ahead
But my man his heart and soul was in his riding 
And I loved this cowboy that I planned to wed. 
Yes he always bought me flowers on a Friday
And I loved this cowboy that I planned to wed.

All our friends had shared that special evening with us
And we raged and partied well into the night,
Then we slipped away to share the morning hours, 
Til the dawn rose and revealed its splendid light.
We both showered and had breakfast at the roadhouse
Laughed and shared the joy that comes with wedded bliss, 
But I sensed a certain tiredness in my Buddy
And I prayed he’d give the ride that day a miss.

Buddy drew the brindle bombshell riders hated
And that beast exploded when it left the chute,
Twisting left then right and suddenly it stumbled
And my Buddy he was crushed by that great brute.
When it came to say goodbye to my sweet lover
There was one thing that I vowed I’d always do 
I would always bring him flowers on a Friday
And I’d tell his child about his father too.
.
“Bud I’ll always bring you flowers on a Friday”
That’s the one thing that I vow I’ll always do.
Cause you always brought me flowers on a Friday
And your child will always bring you flowers too. 
Yes I’ll always bring you flowers on a Friday
And your child will always bring you flowers too.


Details | Cowboy | |

Rodeo's Renegade Roses

Gather ‘round younguns, there is a story to be told
About some renegade cowgirls & their ride for the gold
They made it look so easy, feathers, flowers & a smile.
Guts & grace, they had plenty, quitting wasn't their style

They snugged up their riggin' & grabbed for air
Winning Champion titles with style & flair
If Lucas, Krieg & Greenough hadn't led the way
Would any of us be here in the arena today?

Henderson, Riley, Hastings & Creed
To the "Men Only" rule they all paid no heed
They broke records & bones, faced derision & fear
Riding Broncs, Raising families, they juggled home & career

Nasty wrecks were a given but they seemed to bounce back
In one unforgettable event, Tad's girl picked up the slack
From Calgary & Cheyenne to OKC & San Antone
Though there are many others, these ladies stand alone

Hat's off to the Rodeo's Renegade Roses
At tradition they turned up their noses
Bronc busting, trick riding, a rough riding ballet
They showed us how to win & made it look like play

They were never reckless, just a bit wild & bold
Now its up to you & me to see their stories told
They left mighty big boots to fill, bless them one & all
We know that they ride with us, as we heed the siren's call

Lift a glass high in honor for those who paved the way
Three cheers for the Renegade Roses still bucking out today


Details | Cowboy | |

Small Boys Trains and Outlaws

There was  derelict old Steam engine, 
I  played on when I was ten,
I'd hear that lonesome whistle blow,
and the old west would live again,

I rode with Billy Miner's gang,
To rob The CPR,
Climbed onboard  that rusty engine,
hollering "Shorty,  check the baggage car!" 

I wonder if the ghost of ol' Bill Miner,
ever watched us at our play,
 Small boys re-enacting ,
a near forgotten day.

Forty years and more have passed...
I still hear that lonesome whistle blow 
My pony snorts impatiently ,
She knows it's time to go. 

"Pull up your masks and draw your pistols!"
We come around the engine at a run,
Three riders on fast horses,
flashing hooves and blazing gun.

That very same old engine,
I played on as a child,
Now hauls tourists back in time,
to when the West was wild.

Old railroad men and cowboys ,
re-enact a bygone day,
While the grinning ghost of Billy Miner,
watches us at play. 


 
 



 


Details | Cowboy | |

'The Cowboy On The Battlefield ... ' (Cowboy Poem # 12)

Young Cowboy On The Battlefield
Remembered His Mama’s Words
‘Just Make It Home, Son …’
Her Voice Echoed, As He Heard …

Rapid-Fire and Revolution
Missiles, Right and Left
Bomb-Blasts and Confusion
… and Silent Tears, He’s Wept

… Every Day, A Minefield
Every Night, A Raid
Every Moment, A Terror
Trying to Make Him Afraid …

Any Second, A Horror
Of A Buddy, Laid To Rest
Every New Tomorrow
Wondering, What’s Next ?

The Cowboy On The Battlefield
Vigilant and Brave
Stood Ramrod Tall and Terse …
Looking At Her Grave …

‘Just Make It Home, Son … ‘
… Echoed Thru His Brain
‘Just Make It Home, Son …’
… Echoed Thru The Rain

And Just Before She Was Laid To Rest
She Said, ‘Just Make It Home, Son …’
And With Those Last Words, She Blessed,
And Said, ‘I’ll Be Waiting, When You Come …’

                    * * * *

… Old Cowboy, On The Battlefield
Remembers His Mama’s Words
‘Just Make It Home, Son … 
… and We’ll Celebrate Our Return …


Of  Note:  In The Words Of A Lady Rocker,
Pat Benatar:   ‘Love Is A Battlefield’
(but I Say, 'Life Is A Battlefield'


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 | |

Ode to the Cowboy Yodeler

One Day I was listening to an old Cowboy song
My boots began to tapping & I began to sing along
A Cowgirl stepped to the mic & as she began to sing
It sounded like a falsetto auctioneer pulling vowels out on a string

I perked my ears & listened, it didnt seem that hard
If I could learn to yodel, I'd be a Cowgirl Superstar
So I warmed up & just let loose
Was that the call of a lovesick moose?

So I adjusted my pitch, had my stance down pat
Just as I began to yodel, I swear someone stepped on a cat
I struggled on through most of the day trying to warble & trill
And If I'd not sprained my tonsils & tongue, I'd be at it still

Let's hear it for the Cowboy Yodeler, Head & shoulders above the rest
For in mastering the yodel, you surely passed the test
I only have one question, I'd really like to know
Why they sing about her & where did the little old lady go? 


Details | Cowboy | |

Song On The Breeze

She was born high on the mountain top
Where the soul stays pure and free
She sang everyday from the mountain top
Her voice was carried away on the breeze
The sweet angel voice floated- to the valley below
Where the Ranger was walking the street
Alone he would walk to serve and protect
The valley from the darkness it would meet
He was a white noble knight,in a black leather vest
He was the last of a rare hero’s breed
Then one day he heard the voice on the breeze

It sang, 
Follow your heart and you’ll find you way home
No need to walk through the valley alone
Just search and you’ll find the Angel Divine
And love from the mountain crest high 
Just follow the song on the breeze

He searched all around as he walked through the town
But the sweet voice was nowhere to be found
Then the darkness rolled in and he was at again
Trying to save the innocent souls of the town
He forgot the sweet voice as he followed the noise
Of  horses and the  bandits  escape
He followed them high through the mountains they climbed
Until he caught them at the top near the edge
He fought hard and proud and he captured them all
His heart beating strong when justice prevailed
He was turning around to take them to town
When he heard the sweet voice on the breeze

It sang,
You followed your heart and you found your way home
No need to return to the darkness of valley again
You searched and you found your  Angel Divine
And the love that was sent down from me
Now follow the song on the breeze 

He sent the prisoners away with the Deputy Shane
He said he won’t be walking the dark streets anymore 
The voice on the breeze has called out to me 
From this place where my soul is at peace 
He turned then to see the voice from the breeze
And the love in his sweet Angels eyes 




Details | Cowboy | |

Sage & Thorn

From a Cowboy heart is born
Poets of the sage & thorn
We speak so all the world might see
The cowboy life, our legacy
Whether in the city raised
Or with the cattle as they grazed
You're transported swiftly back in time
When gathered to hear a cowboy rhyme
To wild & western days now past
Slowing a world which moves so fast
We offer our memories as a gift
hoping that your spirits lift
We are all Cowboy bred & born
Poets of the sage & thorn 


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 Cowboy Way

why oh why'd I have to be a cowboy
Riding on the range like Roy and Gene
Singing in the saddle with their guitars
Strumming to the humming
Of the sons of pioneers

Young boys were shooting rustlers too
Even now the memory  lingers 
Despite the long forgotten years
Imagined six guns spun on fingers
Blowing smoke and smiling through 
Poorer times with held back tears
Thirty years of working still don't have a single dime
No such thing as overtime
Dark t' dark is normal every week has seven days
Watching dawn awake the sky With fresh coffee and new day
I see the answer to the why I live the cowboy way
Digging ponds and mending fence Is just a bit of self defense 
from City life and hassle seen  Driving truck and smelling gasoline
These boots wa'nt made for walkin'much 
These lips aint  ever prattled such
Both old and cracked and losing touch
But comfortable tight
Wasted words so seldom heard 
Cep' maybe by the herd

 


Details | Cowboy | |

Ghost Dance

While the Ancestors worshipped 
   they shot them one and all. 
They thought they had stopped the dance 
   as they watched the Old Ones fall. 
 
But what they did not know 
   is that we do not die... 
Their bullets set us free 
   and sent our souls to fly.   
 
High above this shadow plain 
   where the spirit beasts do roam; 
We roost upon their sacred backs, 
    and the Buffalo carry us home. 
 
We dance for our lives 
   for the secrets of the Earth. 
We dance while they kill us 
   and through death find rebirth. 
 
We dance night and day, 
   to the drums thundering low. 
Singing medicine songs 
   to honor the Buffalo. 
 
Though we may not rise today 
   The People will not die; 
As long as we keep dancing, 
   the Ghosts...You...and I. 

We dance for the things for which we yearn; 
Grass covered plains, the Buffalo’s return. 
The fever of freedom forever will burn,  
While we’re dancing with the ghosts. 
 
For there is no time frame on prophesy, 
This is the Vision Great One gave to me, 
The Heart of The People will always be, 
Dancing with the Ghosts...


(Wado Waya Streeby for understanding.)


Details | Cowboy | |

Paying the Fiddler

I was nineteen that summer
  when I met him at a buck-out,
  and I was totally smitten
  by all the Cowboy charm he had.

I thought that he was rugged,
  (and undeniably handsome),
  then that bull slammed against the fence
  and busted him up pretty bad.

I was surprised when he showed up at the dance,
  he was battered and bruised but smiling,
  and I heard him talking and laughing,
  still high from the rush of the ride.

He said “You gotta’ pay the fiddler
  if you want to dance to his tune”,
  then he drifted across the floor,
  said “Let’s dance” as he reached my side.

Mama told me I’d be sorry
  if I ignored her and took up with him,
  and I really hate to say it, 
  but I guess that she was right.

But when I review my memories
  I know I’d do it all again,
  for that “Eight Second Feeling”
  of our first long kiss that night.

We used to dance for hours,
  in the kitchen and on the porch
  and laugh about owein’ that fiddler
  and what his pay would be.

But lately there ain’t been no dancin’,
  just long strings of awkward silence,
  as his eyes look far and distant
  and not so much at me.

Seems his spirit has grown uneasy,
  as I listen to him talking
  and realize it’s still Rodeo
  that truly holds his heart.

Oh, I don’t mind coming in second,
  heck, life is like that sometimes.
  But knowing I’m invisible,
  well, that’s the hardest part.
 
I suppose I should be angry,
  but I just can’t find it in me,
  ‘cause I know what it’s like
  to love something just that way.

I felt it when I first saw him,
  in the arena and on the dance floor
  and I still feel it sometimes
  when I watch him walk away.

I’ve helped him struggle to pay the fiddler,
  and it breaks my heart to see him weary, 
  so I stand in silent acceptance,
  as I watch him pack his things.

I understand his leaving,
  I know he won’t be coming back here,
  our life together, a lesson,
  one that time always seems to bring.

I walk out past the horse pens,
  pull the gate shut…and I lock it,
  hear my mare start to nicker
  as the trailer pulls away.

I’d like to say I’ll miss him,
  his past still holds my heart.
  But we danced to the fiddler’s tune
  and the final payment came due today.


Details | Cowboy | |

Ghost Dance

While the Ancestors worshipped 
   they shot them one and all. 
They thought they had stopped the dance 
   as they watched the Old Ones fall. 
 
But what they did not know 
   is that we do not die... 
Their bullets set us free 
   and sent our souls to fly.   
 
High above this shadow plain 
   where the spirit beasts do roam; 
We roost upon their sacred backs, 
    and the Buffalo carry us home. 
 
We dance for our lives 
   for the secrets of the Earth. 
We dance while they kill us 
   and through death find rebirth. 
 
We dance night and day, 
   to the drums thundering low. 
Singing medicine songs 
   to honor the Buffalo. 
 
Though we may not rise today 
   The People will not die; 
As long as we keep dancing, 
   the Ghosts...You...and I. 

We dance for the things for which we yearn; 
Grass covered plains, the Buffalo’s return. 
The fever of freedom forever will burn,  
While we’re dancing with the ghosts. 
 
For there is no time frame on prophesy, 
This is the Vision Great One gave to me, 
The Heart of The People will always be, 
Dancing with the Ghosts...


(Wado Waya Streeby for understanding.)


Details | Cowboy | |

Listen T' This Little Ditty

I sometimes think my poetry ain't poems in modern favor.
Intelligentsia declares, but I danged well won't waver
from writin' simple, unpretentious words 'n' thoughts called “witty”.
From now on my poetry ain't a poem, it's called a ditty.

“Listen t' this little ditty.” I've heard those cowboys say
when they begin to sing a song of wisdoms of the day.
Now I don't think me wiser than the smart guys that I know,
but I just like to fake it in my stand up poet's show.

Now cowboys, they write poetry to sum their thoughts in rhyme
'bout words o' wisdom or describin' real weird points in time -
like twisters twistin' towns apart or floods that float the cows
or simple words, “what goes comes 'round” brings thinkun' jus' like owls.

So listen to this little ditty, if fer nuthin' else than fun
of listenin' to a cowboy fake that he's a wiser one 
a spoutin' words of poetry that some folks may call “gritty”.
I'll seldom waiver from my writin' what I call a ditty.


Details | Cowboy | |

Echoes of the Canyon

They say that she is crazy 
   talking to the canyon; 
Listening to the voices 
   that echo from the rocks. 
She knows that they are out there, 
   the spirits of the Ancients, 
And the moon, it makes her restless 
   as it lights the path she walks. 
 
The Storykeeper told her 
   the water there flows crimson; 
That the grass for the ponies, 
   is lush and green and tall. 
Among the stalks of sky-blue corn, 
   medicine drums are calling; 
The Old Ones shadow-dancing 
   as the twilight starts to fall. 
 
So she burns a little sage 
   on a fire made of cedar; 
Sending prayers out to them 
   in a shower of sparks and smoke. 
The flames bid her welcome 
   into the Sacred Circle; 
Her flute repeating softly, 
   the promises that he spoke. 
 
For her sacrifice and faith 
   the Old Ones send a message; 
A hawk dips down and beckons 
   to follow ever high. 
The path is steep and rocky, 
   but she just keeps on climbing; 
Waiting for the moment 
   when she’ll be allowed to fly. 

One day, she simply disappeared. 
   I like to think she found it; 
That emerald endless valley 
   where the Spirit Dancers dwell. 
The only question left... 
   do we deserve to go there? 
I guess that’s just a story 
   that only time can tell. 
 
So, will they think I’m crazy 
   talking to the canyon? 
Listening for her voice 
   to echo from the stones... 
Their thoughts do not concern me 
   in my quest for the Great Forever; 
Wandering the Crimson Canyon trails, 
   searching for my home. 
 
*With love to TR...who set my feet back upon the good road.


Details | Cowboy | |

A Place in the Heart

"Where is this place they call The West?”,  
   a stranger asked of me;  
“Where does it begin, where does it end,  
   where are the boundaries?"  
 
I gave this question lots of thought,  
   I considered it quite carefully;  
For everything from the Atlantic coast is West,  
   all the way to the Pacific sea.  
 
Cowboy is a often an mis-used term,  
   open to interpretation,  
And so it is, with The West,  
   it becomes a generalization.  
 
The answer seemed too simple,  
   though it gave me cause to ponder;  
The ways and life of the Cowboy  
   and how he is bound to wander.  
 
I smiled as I gave my answer,  
   and please don't think it odd,  
But the words I spoke, I truly believe,  
   were given to me by God.  
 
"Everyone has a different definition,  
   and no single one is right;  
It's like trying to define the Universe,  
   or freedom or faith or sunlight.  
 
The West is like the sky above,  
   endless and wrapped around us all;  
It's anywhere there's the soul of man,  
   or the sound of this Earth's call.  
 
It's the place where we're going,  
   all the places we have been,  
The past, the present and the future;  
   where-ever you find a friend.  
 
Where is The West?  
   You're standing there;  
It's no one location,  
   it's everywhere.  
 
It's no place in particular,  
   it's anywhere living is an art;  
It's any place a Cowboy is,  
   it's A Place in the Heart."  
 
 


Details | Cowboy | |

Calamity Jane

 
She makes the whip go poppin’, 
Her pistol shots are heart stoppin’, 
Woman of romance, grit and fame, 
Wild Lady of Heart, Calamity Jane. 
 
She’s history, wrapped up in mystery, 
And she lives the life she loves, 
Taking with innocent gratefulness, 
The gifts from God above. 
 
Listen to her stories, 
And you can live them too, 
Then realize, the greatest gift, 
Has also been given to you. 
 
When she gives her stories, 
And all her very best, 
You become a vital part, 
Of the Legend of the American West. 
 
Oh, she makes that whip go poppin’, 
Her pistol shots are heart stoppin’, 
Woman of romance, grit and fame, 
Wild Lady of Heart...Calamity Jane. 
 
 
*Dedicated to Norma Cathey, Great Grand Niece of Calamity Jane.
Thanks for the laughter.


Details | Cowboy | |

REGRET

     I’ve seen their spirits ride at night, 
In total darkness and clear moonlight, 
Souls that search for what is right, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

     With open heart, determined face, 
Eyes that see a far away place, 
No eternal rest, 'til they run the race, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

    They search across history, 
To return our civil gentility, 
And the way  things ought to be, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

     Nothing gets in their way, 
Honor bound by what they say, 
They pledge to bring it back one day, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

     Promise made, I over-hear, 
From their mission, they’ll not veer, 
It’s their duty to find, the Lost Frontier, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

     I know their voices from my dreams, 
Calling me to come upstream, 
Perhaps, my life, to redeem, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

     I must make haste and decide, 
If on this quest, I will ride, 
With them, I know, I can’t backslide, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

     I pause...consider...hesitate... 
They ride on. It is too late. 
They leave me with my own mistake, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

     Waking, as if, from a trance, 
I cry out for one more chance, 
But they have gone without a glance, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

     I realize they have come before, 
Blazing trails, opening doors, 
To Freedom, Salvation even more, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

    I know these men, I owe a debt, 
I should have gone.  It’s my regret. 
To this day I seek them yet, 
These men that they call Cowboys. 

    So I search for their spirits, late at night, 
In total darkness and clear moonlight, 
And pray for the chance to set things right, 
With these men that they call Cowboys.                                    
                                                                         



Details | Cowboy | |

JAKE

 He was just a stove-up old cowboy, 
Who only drank to ease the pain, 
And he really didn’t need it, 
Except when it was cold or gonna’ rain. 

He’d spent his life bull-ridin’ , 
Until he had that wreck, 
The bull threw him high, he came down hard, 
And busted his legs all to heck. 

He’d been my Daddy’s best friend,  
Up until the day my Daddy died, 
They rodeo’ed together, 
At the funeral, he cried. 

I’d see him every now and again, 
At one or another rodeo, 
He always had kind words for me, 
Acted like he hated to see me go. 

He gave me my first pony, 
And a saddle with a dally horn, 
They say he drove my  Mamma to town, 
The icy night that I was born. 

I heard he’d talk about me, 
And only had good things to say, 
He never told me to my face, 
But I knew that was just his way. 

It came as a surprise to me, 
When I heard that he was dead, 
I couldn’t forget the last time I saw him, 
Or the last thing he ever said... 

“I wish you’d been my own son, 
I’m proud to know ya’ as a man, 
I wanted to say ‘I love ya’, 
While I’m sober, and I can.” 

Then he turned and strode off, 
And his back seemed straight and strong, 
I’m not real sure, but I’d have sworn 
That limp of his was gone. 

So, on those nights when I’m alone,  
And hurt gets in my way, 
I think of him and the guts it took, 
To say what he had to say. 

And now, when I see an old Cowboy, 
A little drunk and broken down, 
I stop and listen to the stories he tells, 
‘Cause I know he’s been around. 

And Somewhere, Jake is bull-ridin’, 
Hittin’ in the eighties on every ride, 
Young , and Free, and Wild again, 
In that place, called The Other Side. 


Details | Cowboy | |

Addie Shaughnessey

My name is Addie Shaughnessey, 
I’m in love with a Cowboy, 
Though he up and rides away, 
Time and time again. 
 
I understand the lure, 
Of those wide open spaces, 
And I’ll be right here waiting, 
When his trail comes to an end. 
 
He’s chasing wild cattle, 
By the muddy Rio Grande, 
For a drive across the world, 
From Texas to Montan’, 
 
One day he will come back to me, 
I’m very sure of this, 
They were the final words he spoke, 
Before his good-bye kiss. 
 
So I’ll hold his image in my heart, 
Stay true to him and strong, 
For a Cowboy loves the prairie, 
Like a woman loves a song. 


Details | Cowboy | |

Waiting

Sweat-stained Stetson, 
On the wall, 
Muddy boots, 
In the hall, 
Stand and wait, 
Sometimes they call, 
Saddle-up and ride. 

Spurs left hanging, 
On a chair, 
Saddle, oiled, 
Over there, 
Sit and wait, 
With patient care, 
Saddle-up and ride. 

Slow and quiet, 
Horses walk, 
Softly nicker, 
Hear them talk, 
Endure and wait, 
But never mock, 
Saddle-up and ride. 

Cowboy spirits, 
In the night, 
A haunting dance, 
A lonesome sight, 
Sway and wait, 
For day’s first light, 
Saddle-up and ride. 

Saddle up and ride under stars and moonlight,
its the only thing that's left that's right,
Saddle up and ride.



Details | Cowboy | |

Bitten

Cowboys don’t fear the coyote, 
   he just yips and yowls, 
But the wolf is another story, 
   your blood chills when he howls. 
And a panther, will stalk you, 
   even in the dark, 
And a bear, when he catches you, 
   will tear you clean apart. 

The best thing about a snake bite, 
   is it kills you pretty quick, 
And those “under a rock crawlies”, 
   their bite will make you deathly sick. 
But the most vicious of the critters, 
   the one every Cowboy fears, 
Inflicts a type of torture, 
   that can leave grown men in tears. 

With a bite so excruciating, 
   it will make you wish that you were dead, 
And there’s nothing more terrifying, 
   than when it raises it’s ugly head. 
It attacks without warning, 
   it’s cold-hearted and just plain mean, 
It considers all men prey, 
   and will any one that’s seen. 

The suffering, is lingering, 
   and to this very day, 
There’s no cure or medication, 
   that can take the pain away. 
It’s just the size of a pin point, 
   and it don’t get much bigger, 
But I’ve seen Cowboys brought to their knees, 
   by the savage bite, of the Chigger.