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Campfire Nights
By the time the sun's faded o’er the prairie
well I’m just about as tired as tired can be
My horse has been fed and all the tack is clean
after a biscuit and a few campfire beans
I lay my head down on blanket and saddle
listening to lowing of grazing cattle
Somewhere cross the campfire a guitar gets strummed
and songs start to flow from those old cowboy’s tongues
Voices that float across those low campfire flames
telling tales of glory, riches and fame
Songs sung by punchers that history won’t name
about all those brave men who once roamed the plains
Lending voices to the songs, a coyote’s howl
the screech of a hawk and the hoot from an owl
The shuffling of the horses hitched to the line
the sough of the wind as it flows through the pine
The strum of guitar and the hum of soft tunes
The sight of the stars as they shoot cross the moon
I pray I will always have these kinds of nights
with cowboys singing across my campfire light
Copyright ©
Jerry Brotherton
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