Drover, Ride Your White Horse

Drover, ride your white horse...ride it with grit on the sun-scorched prairies of the Mississippi Valley: where no tree is found in a shady spot, but plenty of wild daisies and pink roses distract you constantly! Winter came with snow and haze, and the buffalos couldn't graze; now, in the open prairie, they do and aren't startled by your gallops or fear being chased and hunted by two or three lasso-throwing cowboys for their gorgeous hides to make a fortune... hear them whistling a Kenny Roger's tune! Drover, ride your white horse...ride it with grit through the rich farmlands burning, until you'll get hungry, thirsty and tired; sit down by the Mississipi River and unwind, observe the clearest water flowing as Mark Twin did while he was writing! Drover, ride the white horse, ride it with grit... while thinking how far is your home, how lonely is your wife holding Jerome! Copyright ( c ) 2018 by Andrew Crisci