Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
Ranchman's Widow
She's got one son a doctor,
And a daughter teachin' Latin.
Her youngest, he's a lawyer,
And she thinks a heap of that 'un.
But one's a cow ranch foreman,
And it makes her kinder glad,
For the way he sets the saddle
Just reminds her of his dad.
She's proud to be the mother
Of a man who tends the sick,
And of a brainy daughter,
And a lawyer, keen and quick;
But when her old heart hankers
For the old days once again,
She packs and makes a visit
To the range of ridin' men.
And although he ain't ambitious
For a big high-toned success,
Her cowboy son arouses
Just a heap more tenderness.
Than all the other trio,
And her heart feels young and glad
Just to see him set a saddle
Code Of The Cow Country
To keep the rangeland straight,
Nor books to write 'em in, because
There's only six or eight.
The first one is the welcome sign—
True brand of western hearts:
"My camp is yours an' yours is mine,"
In all cow country parts.
Treat with respect all womankind,
Same as you would your sister.
Take care of neighbors' strays you find,
And don't call cowboys "mister."
Shut pasture gates when passin' through;
An' takin' all in all,
Be just as rough as pleases you,
But never mean nor small.
Talk straight, shoot straight, and never break
Your word to man nor boss.
Plumb always kill a rattlesnake.
Don't ride a sorebacked hoss.
It don't take law nor pedigree
To live the best you can!
These few is all it takes to be
A cowboy—and a man!