The Old Wooden Windmill (Cowboy Poetry)

Sat on top of High Lonesome Hill It would scream, cry, lacked grease and oil The lonely sound as the mountain wind would blow Pumped ice cold water, thirsty cows would drink their fill In the summer time, the Sun would boil Still pumping even in the snow Built out of oak timber Many years ago, strong as the day was long Storms come and go, still standing tall Never missed a day of work since I can remember And singing it's mournful song For a bunch of thirsty cows, it was "Cattle Call" The road there was an old dry creek bed In the oak trees, the deer would hide I would ride there on a buckskin bay For hours of dreaming and resting my head All that was yesterday Windmill spin as you pump the cowboy's gold With a piece of beef jerky, a no finer meal If that could only happen again Like the memory that only a cowboy can hold That old spinning windmill wheel It was Heaven without any sin