The Cowboy Rides

The cowboy rides like a noble lord across the dusty ground, his six-shooter is his scepter, a Stetson is his crown. His saddle is a leather throne from which he can survey all his four-legged denizens on far mountain and plain. His kingdom is every shifting, blazing trails across earth, he rarely owns the herd and yet he’ll fight for what it’s worth. The children look upon him and see a model for themselves. Half-mythic, they see a hero whose legend does them well. Women look and see their fantasy, with whom they long to ride, to live as a cowboy’s sweet-heart, forever by his side. Men turn their stare to the cowboy, see what they hope they could be, a pioneer calling the shots, living a life that’s free. At rodeos they ride big bulls that would break our spines, by what power are they able to last eight second’s time? On silver screens, in wilderness, against evil they go. They win the day and half the time their names we never know. They’ve stood for all America, one hundred fifty years, through chaos, war, and damn hippies, and yet they are still here. Keeping their long and lonely watch in weather hot and cool, the cowboy rides like a noble lord, Forever may he rule!