I'm Glad I Still Live Where There's Cowboys
by Carole Jarvis © 2003
I'm glad I still live where there's cowboys
who earn a wage makin' a hand.
Like their counterparts from another time,
these cowboys still ride for the brand.
When a group of 'em gather for roundup,
its like turnin' back a page
In a book on the history of cowboys,
from a different time and age.
They're up and out before dawn lights up the sky,
some youngsters, some old buckaroos.
Each shares a kinship for this way of life,
and each one has paid his dues.
I love watchin' 'em bring the cows in,
calves trailin' along beside,
And I'm thinkin', it won't be long now,
till those calves wear a brand on their hide.
I like listenin' to their quiet western drawls,
watchin' as they ride with such ease.
Jinglin' spurs hung on scuffed high heel boots,
and a good horse between their knees.
Cowboys in Levi® or Wrangler® jeans,
wearin' denim shirts with snaps,
Those dusty, sweat-stained old black Stetsons,
and tight-fittin' leather chaps.
These same men are partial to pickups,
primarily the four-wheel-drive kind,
Which they load with hay bales and cowdogs,
and pull a stock trailer behind.
You can hear their rigs comin' for miles
and see the dust in the air.
They drive like they're out chasin' rustlers,
'stead of only goin' somewhere.
Maybe haulin' a cow to the vet
or a load of calves to a sale,
Bringin' back fencin' supplies from town
or just pickin' up the mail.
There's always work to be done on a ranch,
and I seldom hear cowboys balk.
One exception to the rule, of course-
if the job means havin' to walk.
Yes, I'm glad I still live where there's cowboys,
'cause they're men on good terms with life.
And in them, the spirit of the West still lives;
I should know, I'm a cowboy's wife.
Published by permission of the author.