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The Cowboy at Church
I thought how often she had gone
With little Sis and me
To church, when I was but a lad
Way back in Tennessee.
It never once occurred to me
About not being dressed
In Sunday rig, but carelessly
I went in with the rest.
You should have seen the smiles and shrugs
As I went walking in,
As though they thought my leggins
Worse than any kind of sin;
Although the honest parson,
In his vestry garb arrayed
Was dressed the same as I was,—
In the trappings of his trade.
The good man prayed for all the world
And all its motley crew,
For pagan, Hindoo, sinners, Turk,
And unbelieving Jew,—
Though the congregation doubtless thought
That the cowboys as a race
Were a kind of moral outlaw
With no good claim to grace.
Is it very strange that cowboys are A rough and reckless crew When their garb forbids their doing right As Christian peoole do? 247