Copyright 1995-2005 - Chuck Pritchard

POETS, BARDS & LIARS

Oh Lord, I've never lived where churches grow

I love creation better as it stood

That day you finished it so long ago

And looked upon your work and called it good

I know that others find you in the light

That's sifted down through tinted window panes

And yet I seem to feel you near tonight

In this dim quiet starlight on the plains

I thank you, Lord, that I am placed so well

That you have made my freedom so complete

That I'm no slave of whistles, clock or bell

Nor weak eyed prisoner of wall and street

Just let me live my life as I've begun

And give me work that's open to the sky

Make me a pardner of wind and sun

And I won't ask for life that's soft or high

Let me be easy on the man that's down

Let me be fair and generous with all

I'm careless sometimes, Lord, when I'm in town

But never let 'em say I'm mean or small

Make me as big and open as the plains

As honest as the horse between my knees

Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains

Free as the hawk that circles the breeze

Forgive me, Lord, if I sometimes forget

You know the reasons that are hid

You understand the things that gall and fret

You know me better than my Mother did

Just keep an eye on all that's done or said

And right me sometimes when I turn aside

And guide me on the long, dim trail ahead

That stretches upward, toward the Great Divide