The Cowboy
His days are filled with sunshine
The nights a pool of stars
He thinks little of television,
Airplanes, boats or cars.
He listens to the songdog’s melody
Night on every night.
His dreams are filled with pretty girls,
Faraway, out of sound and sight.
He knows the smell of saddle leather,
Pine, sage and cow.
He is a where a man, is his own,
To few if any, would he bow.
If you know one of these,
Hold his memory dear!
For many do not come along.
And most have packed up their gear.
-by
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