Rodeo

Who is the person they call a cowboy
I do believe I've seen a few around
Got on them boots, hat and spurs
Driving a pick 'em truck all about town

Or pulling a trailer down the road
Of cattle or hay or things that just need movin'
All sorts of music coming out the windows
Heads a bobbin' and a groovin'

Seen a gun rack in the cab
Sometimes a John Deere hitch cover
Maybe some horse tack in the back
Or a rope and gloves made of leather

They still get aboard the horse for work or play
In the arena or the corral or some place far away
Where there aren’t any cell phones or modern conveniences
No computers or televisions or cars or fences

Wasn't so long ago they stood at the edge of a new horizon that faced the
West
Where a person's strength, guts and faith would stand the test
They might have been dirt farmers or had a dairy back in Ohio
But became cowboys west of the Mississippi or south of the Red River flow

Life was harder than the Oklahoma clay
Bone jarring, back breaking and life stealing
They carved out the West with the blade of the Bowie knife
Cutting trail to Kansas, New Mexico, California and the like

The red man tried to stop them with the lance and the bow
Not knowing this wasn’t people but a destiny
And something they just couldn’t hold back
Not by war or by fear or even with a treaty

The ranges are all fenced in now and the cattle are trucked to market
Gone are the legends of the West and the events that have marked it
But in any number of towns or cities on most any Saturday night
You’ll see the great American hero in one more glorious fight


They’ll be pitting their minds, hearts and bodies against all odds
In an arena filled with people who have come to see a show
Of a cowboy battling the horse, steer or that wild bull
In the great American remnant of western history called Rodeo

Ron Secoy