The Cowboy That Found Life's Creek

He'd searched those plains for many years until he had grown weak, He had all but given up on ever findin' ol' Life's Creek. But there it was before him 'twixt the butte they called Tin Cup, He and his horse needed water but Life's Creek was all dried up. With cattle herdin' and each man's life, we often do ask why, When things at last start goin' good, we just grow old and die. Seems when young, ol' death ain't somethin' that we think about, Until our life just goes all wrong and we become devout. We ride 'round final questions and it seems we don't even think-- We say that the only answer is to live life on the brink. Yet we know the sad alternative of dyin' right in our prime-- There's much we don't accomplish when we go before our time. Yet now that this agin' cowboy had found that fabled stream, Had it all been worth the journey for a tumbleweed dream? And do all of our life's answers simply trick and mock us, Or is there some higher mountain in which to put our trust? We just keep tryin' and it seems we always need a friend To prod us into ridin' down that ol' trail to the end. We know that we're just small specks in some eternal eye-- Yet we do the best we can, till we just grow old and die.