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
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