A Look Beyond the Gate

He rose at dawn to start each day, And though the work brought little pay... The cowboy loved his life! To rustle cows and hit the hay Beneath the moon...is what he'd say Was perfect, with no strife. The trail was long and dusty too, But oh those ragged mountain views Stirred music in his soul! And by the campfire where the crew Told tales around the dice and drew Their luck with games not droll... Comradery was thick and bold, Where every story that was told Became their common fate. And when the dice lie still and cold, Each cowboy knows he's growing old... He looks beyond the gate.