Copyright 1995-2005 - Chuck Pritchard

POETS, BARDS & LIARS

I am up tonight in the pinnacles bold

Where the rim towers high,

Where the air is clear and the wind blows cold

And there's only the horses and I.

The valley swims like a silver sea

In the light of the big full moon,

And strong and clear there comes to me

The lilt of the first guard's tune

The fire at camp is burning bright,

Cook's got more wood than he needs.

They'll be telling some windy tales tonight

Of races and big stampedes.

I'm gettin' to old fer that line of talk:

The desperaders they've knowed,

Their wonderful methods of handling stock,

And the fellers they've seen get throwed.

I guess I'm a dog that's had his day,

Though I still am quick and strong.

My hair and my beard have both turned gray

And I reckon I've lived to long.

None of 'em know me but that old cook, Ed,

And never a word he'll say.

My story will stick in his old gray head

Till the break of the Judgement Day.

What's that I see a walkin' fast?

It's a hoss a slippin' through.

He was tryin' to make it out through the pass;

Come mighty near doin' it too.

Git back there! What are you tryin' to do?

You hadn't a chance to bolt.

Old boy, I was wranglin' a bunch like you

Before you was even a colt.

It's later now. The guard has changed.

One voice is clear and strong.

He's singin' a tune of the old time range

I always did like that song.

It takes me back to when I was young

And the memories came through my head

Of the times I have heard that old song sung

By voices now long since dead.

I have traveled better than half my trail,

I am well down the further slope.

I have seen my dreams and ambitions fail,

And memory replaces hope.

It must be true, fer I've heard it said,

That only the good die young.

The tough old cusses like me and Ed

Must stay till the last dog's hung.

I used to shrink when I thought of the past

And some of the things I have known.

I took to drink, but now at last,

I'd far rather be alone.

It's strange how quick a night goes by,

Fer I live in the days of old.

Up here where there's only the hosses and I;

Up in the pinnacles bold.

The two short years that I ceased to roam,

And I led a contented life.

Then trouble came and I left my home,

And I never have heard of my wife.

The years that I spent in a prison cell

When I went by another name;

For life is a mixture of Heaven and Hell

To a feller that plays the game.

They'd better lay off of that wrangler kid;

They've give him about enough.

He looks like a pardner of mine once did,

He's the kind that a man can't bluff.

They'll find that they are making a big mistake

If they once git him overhet;

And they'll give him as good as an even break,

Or I'm takin' a hand, you bet.

Look, there in the East is the Mornin' Star,

It shines with a fiery glow

Till it looks like the end of a big cigar,

But it hasn't got far to go.

Just like the people that make a flash,

They don't stand much of a run,

Come bustin' in with a sweep and dash

When most of the work is done.

I can see the East is gettin' gray,

I'll gather the hosses soon,

And faint from the valley far away

Comes the drone of the last guard's tune.

Yes, life is just like the night-herd's song

As the long years come and go.

You start with a swing that is free and strong,

And finish up tired and slow.

I reckon the hosses all are here.

I can see that T-bar blue,

And the buckskin hoss with the one split ear;

I've got em all. Ninety two.

Just listen to how they roll the rocks

These sure are rough old trails.

But then, if they can't slide down on their hocks

They can coast along on their tails.

The wrangler kid is out with his rope,

He seldom misses a throw.

Will he make a cow hand? Well I hope,

If they give him half a show.

They are throwin' the rope corral around,

The horses crowd in like sheep.

I reckon I'll swaller my breakfast down

And try to furgit and sleep.

Yes, I've lived my life and I've took a chance,

Regardless of law or vow.

I've played the game and I've had my dance,

And I'm payin' the fiddler now.