Poetry

Watch those buckaroos lose their insides when saddled to a wild one untied it’s fer a sight when they ride . Yiddy –up was the wail when a bull of a devil left his trail some kinda fight on the road to hell.
No wonder I headed for Whiskey Row with some forty drinks down below sure is thunder in your hole will rock your soul as you face the mighty cold.
Strums my guitar and softly singing as the cowboys are around the camp fire ringing as the fire is blazinin another day is hazing. Got the notion for prayin as another cowboy was payin and he was sayin
Lord ya know the deeds I’ve done and in the shadows I have hung I just wanted  to be thankful for meeting me on this fateful day and in  thy range I will forever stay.