The Lone Rider

A man sits on his horse on a lone hill The only sound is a steady beat of the horses hooves on a lone trail The two dusty faces stare down the path in the lone night The thought of a warm drawn bath lingers in the cowboy's mind His Job's done, the hands are gone, and he is a lone rider once again The inns' are full leaving him no where to go and no where to stay He rode up on that lone little hill and threw out his role With a saddle for a pillow and a mat for a bed He fell to hard ground as if he were dead A lone tear roles down his cheek On that lone little hill Of the family he left back at the mill Night is almost gone and day is almost here He hears in the distance the sound of a lone deer Tomorrow is the day that He will be home And he will no longer have to roam