Lonesome Cowboy
I heard tell some folks think cowboys built the West.
The only thing I know for sure is I always did my best
to give a man a good days work for an honest wage
ridin' among tumbleweeds and dried brush of sage.
I wear a Colt 45 to scare off rustlers and killin' snakes
and I don't play cutthroat poker with tinhorns or rakes.
It ain't never been an easy job, the life of a ranch hand,
herdin' cattle near the flowin waters of the Rio Grande,
but it's the only way I always wanted to spend my days,
beddin' down under the stars, watching the herd graze.
I'm keepin' one eye open for those wanderin' lil dogies,
chewin' on the end of what's left of smokin' my stogies.
I lassoed a proud stallion, and gentled that big paint.
He's been a good trail horse, so I got no complaint.
I was in love with a rodeo gal, a pretty lil' barrel rider
but she told me a cowboy wouldn't be a good provider.
So I strum my guitar, singing a lonesome cowboy song
about findin' a good woman who won't do me wrong.
One day I'll be an old cowpoke, lying up on that hill,
but not 'til my last roundup, and my body's had its fill
of ridin' the range, mendin' fences, ropin' mustangs,
and eatin' chuck wagon beans when the bell clangs.
I've been thrown off a bad bronc, name of Buckin' Jet,
but don't put my name on that tombstone; not just yet.
January 26, 2021
Cowboy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Copyright © Jenna Logan | Year Posted 2021
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