Dear Charlie

I have thought of you often, found some paper tucked away, I’m feeling sentimental and have some time today, So with pen in hand I thought I would write a line or two, Though I don’t know where your at or if this letter will get through. Well the wire is now strung and the cowboys are fenced in, The Indians that rode beside you will never be again. The long horns their now mulies a horn not a one, I guess the wild west days have come and gone. But Charlie I think you know there is a die hard breed. There are still some out there that live the cowboy creed. I know it’s not exactly the same as when you rode so bold, But Charlie I wanted you to know that not all the saddles are sold. For they wake each morning to the rising sun, And know at the end of each day their work is still not done. And they will gather around a fire to hear a yearn or two, To see who tells the better tale of the things that they do. And some paint a might good picture too, I have seen them at their best. I guess there’s still a little wild out here in the west. We think of you often and dream of a time When the range was open and the land was in its prime. When long horns ran high ridges and tested cowboy wit, And even the best of the ponies would still challenge the bit. So I thought I would write to let you know that you are thought of out here in what we do and where we go. And there still is hardcore buckaroos who still challenge change, And they fight for the freedom to ride the range. Well the fire has burned to embers and the crew is coming in The quiet moment that I had, is now brought to an end, So I will stoke the fire, put the coffee on and say goodbye for now, Hoping you might get this letter some how. Just remember your not for gotten Charlie and you will live on And the cowboys and buckaroos are not completely gone. And when I have more quiet time and paper that I might find, I promise to write again, rest in peace my dear old friend.