Campfire Nights

By the time the sun's faded o’er the prairie well I’m just about as tired as tired can be My horse has been fed and all the tack is clean after a biscuit and a few campfire beans I lay my head down on blanket and saddle listening to lowing of grazing cattle Somewhere cross the campfire a guitar gets strummed and songs start to flow from those old cowboy’s tongues Voices that float across those low campfire flames telling tales of glory, riches and fame Songs sung by punchers that history won’t name about all those brave men who once roamed the plains Lending voices to the songs, a coyote’s howl the screech of a hawk and the hoot from an owl The shuffling of the horses hitched to the line the sough of the wind as it flows through the pine The strum of guitar and the hum of soft tunes The sight of the stars as they shoot cross the moon I pray I will always have these kinds of nights with cowboys singing across my campfire light