| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
THE COWBOY
H
E wjears a big hat and big spurs and all that, And leggins of fancy fringed leather; He takes^ pride in his boots and the pistol he shoots, And he's' happy in all kinds of weather; He's fond of his horse, it's a broncho, of course, For oh, he can ride like the devil; He is old for his years and he always appears Like a fellow who's lived on the level; He can sing, he can cook, yet his eyes have the look Of a man that to fear is a stranger; Yes, his cool, quiet nerve will always subserve For his wild life of duty and danger. He gets little to eat, and he guys tenderfeet, And for fashion, oh well! he's not in it; He can rope a gay steer when he gets on its ear At the r. te of two-forty a minute; His sadc e's the best in the wild, woolly West, Sometimes it will cost sixty dollars; Ah, he knows all the tricks when he brands mave- ricks, But his knowledge is not got from your scholars; He is loyal as steel, but demands a square deal, And he hates and despises a coward; Yet the cowboy, you'll find, to women is kind Though he'll fight till by death overpowered. 127 |
||
|
|
||