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A man I once was speakin with asked the work I did,
I grinned and said I was a cowboy, twas a fact I never hid.
He looked at me confused and said he didnt understand,
A cowboy, I said, cows, horses, those boys who rope and brand.
He stared at me in amazement - You mean they still do that?
Yep, I said, someone has to, and I proudly touched my hat.
This ol boy was from the city and knowing nothing of our lore,
He figured meat came in plastic packs from his grocery store.
For the benefit of those among us who remain so unaware,
Yes, cowboys are still on the range and not exactly rare.
Although not as many as they once were in the West,
Hes still out there a-ridin with cattle the usual quest.
Hes out there in the heat and when winter freezes come,
Saving yearlins from blizzards when their survivals lookin glum.
The work is still as hard and hasnt changed that much,
But a few things make it easier like pickup trucks and such.
The cattle are still trailed from winter to summer graze,
And the cowboy still puts in his endless hour days.
Death hangs on the fringes of the man and beast and dirt,
But when it comes to danger hes always been a flirt.
He takes the pain for granted and when its done and said,
Hell never be found feelin sorry for himself or a-layin in his bed.
The lifes never been easy, but he takes it all in stride,
Just to be in Gods country with the chance to rope and ride.
The beauty of the land, from the mountains to the plains,
Can right any wrong when weighin the losses against the gains.
The cowboy still loves the life and thinks it all worthwhile,
Some kind of American legend with a special flair and style.
Those men tacked out in leather are still around today,
Because the breed never left, no, he never went away.
Look where the quiet grows, not in the crazy race run by a rat,
Cowboysll be out there on the land, because - they still do that.
Copyright ©2003 Dave P. Fisher. All rights reserved.
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