He's just an ol'
With a heart big as the whole out of doors.
But time has exchanged
His home on the range,
For a garden and five acres to mow.
He still rides the range,
Each day at three,
With John Wayne, Gabby or Tex,
When he closes his eyes he's there by their side,
Somewhere out in the west.
He's there in spring
At the rendezvous site,
When the mountain men all converge,
He'll share their whiskey, adventures and lies till
They give into that wandering urge.
He spent one winter
In the mountains way high,
His cabin the size of a den.
He was cozy and warm tucked safe from the storm
Until a commercial cut in.
He was there when Jessie, Frank and the gang,
Hit the bank in a small Kansas town,
He ran for the sheriff
Drew his six guns and waited,
Expecting to mow them all down.
On trails he did ride
With Goodnight and Chism
His job, to bring in the strays,
Like a coyote he'd croon by the light of the moon
To the cattle at the end of the day.
He froze in Alaska as he panned for gold,
Burned brown as the prairies he trod,
Fell along side Jim Bowie
At the Old Alamo
And buried deep 'neath the Lone Star sod.
He tried to avoid the Indian wars,
But rode with Reno
At the Little Big Horn,
The chaos he saw made his skin crawl
And wasn't ashamed, as he knelt there and bawled
His days they were great,
And granted still are,
For he met a new friend today.
He walked by a bookstore, saw Louie Lamour
Now new adventures are coming his way.
He sits in his chair with a confident air
And turns on his TV at three.
He rides with his friends
Till the commercial cuts in
Then he takes out Louie and reads.
Poetry by Cile Beer