Ol" blue-heeler eyed the dirt road for days. Wonder why Captain hadn"t come that way. In the barn the saddle began to collect dust. The well worn spurs showed a touch of rust. Morning coolness had escaped the day, Still Captain hadn"t come that way. A cowboy lives, a cowboy dies. No dramatic letters scrolled across the skies, No 21 gun salutes just an empty space in the heart, And an empty pair of boots. A man of the cow country, a man of the sod. Returning to nature, and riding for God.
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