Cowboys and Indians

He pulls his hat down low against the chill of the storm, The numb fingers that hold the reins forgot what it was like to be warm; On a grassy knoll silhouetted against the rising sun, Astride his pinto pony sits a Native American son; The blowing snow and freezing rain steal his breath away, But he knows that being a cowboy, it's worth the price that you pay; A majestic, bronzed brave, feathers wafting in the breeze, With arms uplifted in obeisance, the Great Spirit to appease! A worn out calf is stretched across his lap on either side, Her head resting on his thigh just going along for the ride; He offers thanks to Him for the grandeur of creation, And for the sun and moon from which he gathers inspiration; Her momma just like him had been caught out in the gale, It's just another story to add to the cowboy's tale; He asks the Great Spirit to bless his arrow and bow, That with true aim he can fell life-sustaining buffalo; His face is hard and beaten from too many days in the sun, From early mornings and late nights workin' til a job is done; A tear rolls down his cheek thinking of his ravaged, sacred land, The broken treaties and those who dealt with deceitful hand; But being a working cowboy surely has its rewards, Riding forgotten country that has never been explored. With a sad heart he lowers his arms and slowly turns away, Determined that from the paths of his fathers he will not stray. By Tirzah Conway and Bob Hinshaw The cowboy portion was written by Tirzah Conway and the Indian portion by Bob Hinshaw