The Old Night Herder's Dance

The Old Night Herder’s Dance I still remember it like yesterday And see it in my mind from one brief glance— I can hear the soft song still drift my way— See again that hauntin’ night herder’s dance. I rode in to hire on at the Bar-T— Said they was all full up, but though, If I wanted to tag on they’d look see— Said that the ol’ night guard they’d soon let go. They said that ol’ Rowel had turned peculiar, But he’d once been the best of the cowmen— That the story was one too familiar— It was sad but just the way of things then. So I rode that trail expectin’ no pay— Still had me a stake from my folks back home— Thought I could make ‘em a hand any day And this was good as any place to roam. Seems that Rowel was a frail little old man, Him and Shorty both took turns at night hawk— Sometimes I wondered how they could plum stand Night tendin’ all that loud bellerin’ flock. One day I sat down and done asked ol’ Rowel If that there really was his Christian name— Said no, weren’t sure how he got it no how— But it was better than Ralph all the same. And I asked Rowel if he’d do it over, Would he still follow the night herder’s ways? And he smiled, but he looked at me sober— As he talked and remembered the old days. He said you know that you’re on your last legs, When they put you out on that ol’ night guard— But he’d lived life full and drank down them dregs As all his young years rode by fast and hard. They say days go quick when they’re passin’ good— But sometimes it’s just more than you can stand. Yet I had to finish I understood And do all that it took to make a hand. (continued)