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Lover’s Moon
Bodies entwined under a blanket of stars,
Ordained by a full prairie moon,
Young lovers embrace for tomorrow he’s leaving
And she whispers, “Come back to me soon.”
His first love is the rodeo
And she knows, she understands,
But on lonely nights when the feeling is right
She misses the feel of his hands.
His strong and sinewy body
Presses into her skin.
His need to ride, to rope and be free
Is stronger than her need within.
Friends tell her she should move on
But they just don’t understand
What it means to give your heart away,
Even to a roaming man.
His dark hair brushes against her
Creating a shiver down her spine,
A tear traces its way down her cheek
When he whispers, “Someday you’ll be mine.”
His deep eyes look right through her soul
And his heart beats in tune with hers.
As much as she’d love him to stay
She loves how he looks in his spurs.
She kisses him deep and with passion,
Making love to him all night,
His hands flowing through her hair,
And their bodies just so right.
He’ll be up and gone with the sun,
His only companion his horse,
But she knows as long as she’s true
He’ll be back at the end of his course.
She doesn’t know that his winnings
Are adding up to buy a ring,
The reason he’s riding and roping so much
Is to buy her one nice thing.
She only knows that she loves him
And her cowboy will come home soon,
So their bodies entwine under a blanket of stars,
Ordained by a full prairie moon.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Cavieta
Cavieta
Bring in the cavieta, boys,
I want to see them through my window
Rolling off that sea of prairie
Wherever the wind will blow.
Moonlight shinin' off arched dun backs
And stars kissin' sorrel manes,
Run home that cavieta, boys,
Let the horses free me from my chains.
I braid my hair into a riata
And wish I could throw it down tonight
And catch a piece of freedom,
Caress smooth hide and take flight.
I'd go running out across The Divide
To where the rivers run west,
There I'd find a piece of myself
And maybe I'd lose the rest.
I see him on his tall bay
Bringing the horses in,
The man that has my heart and soul
And I long to feel his skin.
I get drunk on the moonlight,
Not the whiskey in my glass.
I don't know if he loves me
And I'm too afraid to ask.
So maybe I'll just run away
Before he sees me cry,
Or maybe he'll have an eclipse of the heart
And give real romance a try.
That's more than I can hope for,
I don't deserve a rose
So instead I watch him from my window
And hold his wild rag close.
I wish I didn't want him
Or that he wanted me, too
For more than just a plaything
Or when there's laundry to do.
His is the kiss I ache for,
The arms I need to hold me tight,
So I take him when I can have him
And watch him in the night
When he brings in the cavieta…
I see them through my window
Rolling off that sea of prairie,
Wherever the wind will blow.
Bring in the cavieta, boys,
I want to see them through my window
Rolling off that sea of prairie
Wherever the wind will blow.
Moonlight shinin' off arched dun backs
And stars kissin' sorrel manes,
Run home that cavieta, boys,
Let the horses free me from my chains.
I braid my hair into a riata
And wish I could throw it down tonight
And catch a piece of freedom,
Caress smooth hide and take flight.
I'd go running out across The Divide
To where the rivers run west,
There I'd find a piece of myself
And maybe I'd lose the rest.
I see him on his tall bay
Bringing the horses in,
The man that has my heart and soul
And I long to feel his skin.
I get drunk on the moonlight,
Not the whiskey in my glass.
I don't know if he loves me
And I'm too afraid to ask.
So maybe I'll just run away
Before he sees me cry,
Or maybe he'll have an eclipse of the heart
And give real romance a try.
That's more than I can hope for,
I don't deserve a rose
So instead I watch him from my window
And hold his wild rag close.
I wish I didn't want him
Or that he wanted me, too
For more than just a plaything
Or when there's laundry to do.
His is the kiss I ache for,
The arms I need to hold me tight,
So I take him when I can have him
And watch him in the night
When he brings in the cavieta…
I see them through my window
Rolling off that sea of prairie,
Wherever the wind will blow.
Remuda
Remuda
The night hawk sits with the remuda,
A lonely cuss at best.
Just watchin’ and thinkin’ all night long
Puttin’ his memory to the test.
With nothin’ left to think or do
He’s mentally separatin’ the strings
Within the small band of horses,
Ponderin’ colors and such things.
The gray and the chestnut are Danny’s,
The bay and the grulla, I think they are too.
His favorite’s that ‘ol palomino,
He’ll be a good stock horse when he’s through.
Jake’s been breakin’ the little paint horse
And lays claim to the dunny as well.
He’s got a fine lookin’ apaloosa.
Big, near sixteen hands, far as I can tell.
That stompin’ spitfire filly
Is one of Charlie’s bunch,
Out of his old black stud
I’ll say, just on a hunch.
The blood bay and the gelding with four white socks
And part of Bud’s trail mob.
His strawberry roan has some cow sense
And a good head for most any job.
He starts ponderin’ his own string,
And is pert near fond of that dark bay.
She’s a handful from time to time
But sure ‘nuff smarter than my gray.
That buckskin’s dusted my britches
And tried my might a time or two
But I’d almost lay down money
She’ll be as good as my old sorrel when I’m through.
That’s Billy’s there that’s actin’ up
And causin’ a stir within the bunch.
That’s a cayuse won’t never do nothin’
But eat yer gizzard for lunch.
Is that Cody’s over there limpin’?
Prob’ly just a stone bruise.
He had to shoot the pinto last month, broke leg…
But that horse’d paid his dues.
I wish’d I had the boss’ blue roan,
He’ll make a good stud horse, I’ll bet.
Maybe next year I’ll get a colt of his,
Better get in as good as I can get.
I’ve only ever named one horse
And he was simply “Pard.”
I still get lonesome when I think of our trails,
Boy, losin’ him was hard…
The night hawk’s still sittin’ with the remuda
When a new hand comes for his shift
But he sees him sittin’ there thinkin’
So he just lets his mind drift.
That buckskin there is Joe’s, and the bay, too;
He’s probably thinkin’ the same things…
The next night watch takes his place on the bluff,
Mentally separatin’ strings.
The night hawk sits with the remuda,
A lonely cuss at best.
Just watchin’ and thinkin’ all night long
Puttin’ his memory to the test.
With nothin’ left to think or do
He’s mentally separatin’ the strings
Within the small band of horses,
Ponderin’ colors and such things.
The gray and the chestnut are Danny’s,
The bay and the grulla, I think they are too.
His favorite’s that ‘ol palomino,
He’ll be a good stock horse when he’s through.
Jake’s been breakin’ the little paint horse
And lays claim to the dunny as well.
He’s got a fine lookin’ apaloosa.
Big, near sixteen hands, far as I can tell.
That stompin’ spitfire filly
Is one of Charlie’s bunch,
Out of his old black stud
I’ll say, just on a hunch.
The blood bay and the gelding with four white socks
And part of Bud’s trail mob.
His strawberry roan has some cow sense
And a good head for most any job.
He starts ponderin’ his own string,
And is pert near fond of that dark bay.
She’s a handful from time to time
But sure ‘nuff smarter than my gray.
That buckskin’s dusted my britches
And tried my might a time or two
But I’d almost lay down money
She’ll be as good as my old sorrel when I’m through.
That’s Billy’s there that’s actin’ up
And causin’ a stir within the bunch.
That’s a cayuse won’t never do nothin’
But eat yer gizzard for lunch.
Is that Cody’s over there limpin’?
Prob’ly just a stone bruise.
He had to shoot the pinto last month, broke leg…
But that horse’d paid his dues.
I wish’d I had the boss’ blue roan,
He’ll make a good stud horse, I’ll bet.
Maybe next year I’ll get a colt of his,
Better get in as good as I can get.
I’ve only ever named one horse
And he was simply “Pard.”
I still get lonesome when I think of our trails,
Boy, losin’ him was hard…
The night hawk’s still sittin’ with the remuda
When a new hand comes for his shift
But he sees him sittin’ there thinkin’
So he just lets his mind drift.
That buckskin there is Joe’s, and the bay, too;
He’s probably thinkin’ the same things…
The next night watch takes his place on the bluff,
Mentally separatin’ strings.
Brotherly Brandin'
Brotherly Brandin’
A-headin’ and a-heelin’ furies they were
When they dallied and dragged a calf to the fire.
Josh and little brother Cayle Cooper
Were brandin’ hands without tire.
“Boys, watch them Cooper brothers work,”
The ranch boss’d say.
They were all business, but then again,
Everyone has their off days.
It all started one Sunday mornin’
When neither could hit their aim.
One would miss a horn, the other a hoof,
So bein’ brothers they laid blame.
“You’re not throwin’ long enough!”
Or, “Shake that loop out to size!”
But what steamin’ Josh did next
Caught everyone by surprise.
When they finally got one caught
It was almost in Cayle’s lap
And when Josh picked up that brandin’ iron
He set it down on brother’s chaps.
Now, in all my days a-watchin’
I’ve never seen a boy get so fired.
They went at it like brothers should
And neither of ‘em tired.
They was plumb covered in dirt and sweat and blood
When Cayle pinned big brother to the ground.
He let ‘em up with a satisfied smirk
And started lookin’ around.
“Where’d that iron go?” he asked
But stopped when he seen Josh’s eyes gone wide.
They found the iron when they peeled him up,
Square under his backside.
Josh bears marks of their encounter
And Cayle’s got a story to tell,
But we figure for bein’ brothers,
They work together right well!
A-headin’ and a-heelin’ furies they were
When they dallied and dragged a calf to the fire.
Josh and little brother Cayle Cooper
Were brandin’ hands without tire.
“Boys, watch them Cooper brothers work,”
The ranch boss’d say.
They were all business, but then again,
Everyone has their off days.
It all started one Sunday mornin’
When neither could hit their aim.
One would miss a horn, the other a hoof,
So bein’ brothers they laid blame.
“You’re not throwin’ long enough!”
Or, “Shake that loop out to size!”
But what steamin’ Josh did next
Caught everyone by surprise.
When they finally got one caught
It was almost in Cayle’s lap
And when Josh picked up that brandin’ iron
He set it down on brother’s chaps.
Now, in all my days a-watchin’
I’ve never seen a boy get so fired.
They went at it like brothers should
And neither of ‘em tired.
They was plumb covered in dirt and sweat and blood
When Cayle pinned big brother to the ground.
He let ‘em up with a satisfied smirk
And started lookin’ around.
“Where’d that iron go?” he asked
But stopped when he seen Josh’s eyes gone wide.
They found the iron when they peeled him up,
Square under his backside.
Josh bears marks of their encounter
And Cayle’s got a story to tell,
But we figure for bein’ brothers,
They work together right well!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Cowboy Church
Cowboy Church
Inspired by Andy Hedges
A clean-cut cowboy preacher’s son
Steps up to the pulpit on Sunday.
Well, it wasn’t really a pulpit,
It was more like chute number 3.
He clears his throat and removes his hat
And starts to speak the Word,
He’s just a cowboy preacher’s son,
Speaking to those who haven’t heard.
People gather ‘round him
To hear him tell the story
Of how Jesus once walked the earth
And how He’s waiting in glory.
His battle-beaten Bible
Rests close by his hand
As he quotes scripture from memory,
A cowboy preacher’s son takes a stand.
A cold rain starts to drizzle
Standin’ at chute number three
But everyone stands rapt by his words,
A cowboy telling of the Almighty.
His words aren’t special or eloquent,
He just tells the story that he knows.
The message is plain and simple
While closer to Christ he grows.
Everyone stops what they’re doing
To hear the cowboy preacher’s son,
His words carry across the arena,
For his sermon has just begun.
He saves the lost while rodeoin’ hard,
Never wavering in his task,
If you ever need to hear the story,
All you need do is ask.
They say he’s just a cowboy preacher’s son,
Never prone to cuss or fight,
But he’s a cowboy, sure enough,
Riding the range for Christ.
Inspired by Andy Hedges
A clean-cut cowboy preacher’s son
Steps up to the pulpit on Sunday.
Well, it wasn’t really a pulpit,
It was more like chute number 3.
He clears his throat and removes his hat
And starts to speak the Word,
He’s just a cowboy preacher’s son,
Speaking to those who haven’t heard.
People gather ‘round him
To hear him tell the story
Of how Jesus once walked the earth
And how He’s waiting in glory.
His battle-beaten Bible
Rests close by his hand
As he quotes scripture from memory,
A cowboy preacher’s son takes a stand.
A cold rain starts to drizzle
Standin’ at chute number three
But everyone stands rapt by his words,
A cowboy telling of the Almighty.
His words aren’t special or eloquent,
He just tells the story that he knows.
The message is plain and simple
While closer to Christ he grows.
Everyone stops what they’re doing
To hear the cowboy preacher’s son,
His words carry across the arena,
For his sermon has just begun.
He saves the lost while rodeoin’ hard,
Never wavering in his task,
If you ever need to hear the story,
All you need do is ask.
They say he’s just a cowboy preacher’s son,
Never prone to cuss or fight,
But he’s a cowboy, sure enough,
Riding the range for Christ.
Toughest Cowboy
Toughest Cowboy
For Jared Green
Load me in some horses,
Make sure they’re good and rank.
I can twist the salty ones,
Rowels dancin’ shoulder to flank.
That thrashin’ gray stud
Ain’t got nothin’ on me,
It gets my blood to boilin’
‘Till the ride is all I see.
He’s goin’ over the chute
Tryin’ to prove he’s mean and tough
But I’m a ten times badder mother
And I love it when it’s rough.
In a screamin’ stompin’ whirlwind
I’m at the eye of the storm,
My nerves are all electrified
And my need is runnin’ warm.
Got my riggin’ suckered down tight,
My hat screwed on my head,
I’ll be puttin’ steel to hide
Until I’m broke or dead.
Climbin’ over the gate now
To take my seat upon the back
Of twelve hundred pounds of muscle
And a heart and soul turned black.
His widow maker days are through,
He’s met his equal now,
I’ll ride the hair off this cayuse
Until he’ll pull a plow.
Got my hand wedged in there,
Turn ‘em out boys, jerk the gate
‘Cause the world’s toughest cowboy
Is about to ride for eight.
My heels are set deep,
First jump now spur him raw,
Toes pointed, perfect form,
Best ride you ever saw.
Chin tucked down, knees workin’
Through nine kicks and one quick turn,
He’s tryin’ to touch his nose to tail
And my muscles are feelin’ the burn.
Adrenaline flowin’, crowd screamin’,
The whistle brings them to her feet,
The gray gives up the fight
And victory tastes so sweet.
I hear the pick-up man comin’ hard,
Ridin’ like hell to get alongside
My eight second business partner
And save me a little hide.
Let go and lean, slide off,
Both boots are on the dirt,
One more ride where I walk away
With a paycheck instead of hurt.
I spend a couple nights at home
Until I’m up again,
I pack my war bag and kiss my girl
And know leavin’ her’s a sin.
But she knows how to handle it
And she’s always waitin’ when I call
Because even the toughest cowboy
Needs a gentle place to fall.
For Jared Green
Load me in some horses,
Make sure they’re good and rank.
I can twist the salty ones,
Rowels dancin’ shoulder to flank.
That thrashin’ gray stud
Ain’t got nothin’ on me,
It gets my blood to boilin’
‘Till the ride is all I see.
He’s goin’ over the chute
Tryin’ to prove he’s mean and tough
But I’m a ten times badder mother
And I love it when it’s rough.
In a screamin’ stompin’ whirlwind
I’m at the eye of the storm,
My nerves are all electrified
And my need is runnin’ warm.
Got my riggin’ suckered down tight,
My hat screwed on my head,
I’ll be puttin’ steel to hide
Until I’m broke or dead.
Climbin’ over the gate now
To take my seat upon the back
Of twelve hundred pounds of muscle
And a heart and soul turned black.
His widow maker days are through,
He’s met his equal now,
I’ll ride the hair off this cayuse
Until he’ll pull a plow.
Got my hand wedged in there,
Turn ‘em out boys, jerk the gate
‘Cause the world’s toughest cowboy
Is about to ride for eight.
My heels are set deep,
First jump now spur him raw,
Toes pointed, perfect form,
Best ride you ever saw.
Chin tucked down, knees workin’
Through nine kicks and one quick turn,
He’s tryin’ to touch his nose to tail
And my muscles are feelin’ the burn.
Adrenaline flowin’, crowd screamin’,
The whistle brings them to her feet,
The gray gives up the fight
And victory tastes so sweet.
I hear the pick-up man comin’ hard,
Ridin’ like hell to get alongside
My eight second business partner
And save me a little hide.
Let go and lean, slide off,
Both boots are on the dirt,
One more ride where I walk away
With a paycheck instead of hurt.
I spend a couple nights at home
Until I’m up again,
I pack my war bag and kiss my girl
And know leavin’ her’s a sin.
But she knows how to handle it
And she’s always waitin’ when I call
Because even the toughest cowboy
Needs a gentle place to fall.
Frosty Mountain
Frosty Mountain
For Sarah
Diamonds crashing under hoof
As I went out a-riding,
Sparkling gems of life and ice
And secrets left in hiding.
The stirrups and the cantle creaking
As up the ridge I onward go
Towards the heavens and the sky,
Not to hell below.
Sparkling pendants of radiant light
Hung from tree and rock and ledge,
Bits of glass and gem and star
Bringing memories up to dredge.
Thoughts of wonder in a young boy’s eyes,Foaling in the winter chill,
Cradling that colt’s head in your lap,
Holding on to the thrill.
Specks of stardust lodged on my coat,
Little rays of fire.
Of the snow and sparkle and shine
I know I’ll never tire.
Puffs of breath on bitter air,
White clouds of sweet ambition,
Loving the outdoors and the cold,
Not before a fire wishin’.
Up into the canyon
Past the trees of evergreen,
Focus on the still and beauty,
Not the problems in between.
The eagle circles wild and free
While my soul soars up as well,
Flying on skies of hope
And stories left to tell.
My gray gelding breaks a track,
Unwavering in his trust,
The colt I foaled so long ago
And love him I simply must.
Sweet solitude and sanctuary,
Released in nature my feelings,
No judgment or audience watching
While my soul continues healing.
Past the frozen falls I ride
And past the Indian sites.
Far past the small log cabin
And on into the night.
I pause beside a frozen stream
And break ice for the gray to drink.
I ponder my reflection in the cool
And sit back and begin to think.
How does man compare
To the sublime grandeur of nature?
How do we think we know it all
When really we’re ignorant creatures?
Back in the saddle and still I ride,
Double-cinched in front and back.
The mountains can be a treacherous place,
Even an entombing trap.
But me, I’d rather die here in the mountains
Than work at a desk for all my life.
I’d rather be killed breaking a horse
Than for twenty dollars stabbed with a knife.
What’s the point of livin’
In a sick existence for a man?
You can never dream too late
If you choose to take a stand.
The trees around me stand
And arch their backs to the wind.
Like a tree my dreams will stand
And like a mountain will not bend.
Now these diamonds crashing under hoof
And I am still a-riding
Up this frosty mountain,
No more secrets left in hiding.
For Sarah
Diamonds crashing under hoof
As I went out a-riding,
Sparkling gems of life and ice
And secrets left in hiding.
The stirrups and the cantle creaking
As up the ridge I onward go
Towards the heavens and the sky,
Not to hell below.
Sparkling pendants of radiant light
Hung from tree and rock and ledge,
Bits of glass and gem and star
Bringing memories up to dredge.
Thoughts of wonder in a young boy’s eyes,Foaling in the winter chill,
Cradling that colt’s head in your lap,
Holding on to the thrill.
Specks of stardust lodged on my coat,
Little rays of fire.
Of the snow and sparkle and shine
I know I’ll never tire.
Puffs of breath on bitter air,
White clouds of sweet ambition,
Loving the outdoors and the cold,
Not before a fire wishin’.
Up into the canyon
Past the trees of evergreen,
Focus on the still and beauty,
Not the problems in between.
The eagle circles wild and free
While my soul soars up as well,
Flying on skies of hope
And stories left to tell.
My gray gelding breaks a track,
Unwavering in his trust,
The colt I foaled so long ago
And love him I simply must.
Sweet solitude and sanctuary,
Released in nature my feelings,
No judgment or audience watching
While my soul continues healing.
Past the frozen falls I ride
And past the Indian sites.
Far past the small log cabin
And on into the night.
I pause beside a frozen stream
And break ice for the gray to drink.
I ponder my reflection in the cool
And sit back and begin to think.
How does man compare
To the sublime grandeur of nature?
How do we think we know it all
When really we’re ignorant creatures?
Back in the saddle and still I ride,
Double-cinched in front and back.
The mountains can be a treacherous place,
Even an entombing trap.
But me, I’d rather die here in the mountains
Than work at a desk for all my life.
I’d rather be killed breaking a horse
Than for twenty dollars stabbed with a knife.
What’s the point of livin’
In a sick existence for a man?
You can never dream too late
If you choose to take a stand.
The trees around me stand
And arch their backs to the wind.
Like a tree my dreams will stand
And like a mountain will not bend.
Now these diamonds crashing under hoof
And I am still a-riding
Up this frosty mountain,
No more secrets left in hiding.
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