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
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