The day of the cowboy has vanished.
At least that's what some people say.
Like buffalo tracks in the deep parairie.
All the cowboys have faded away.

Well, Partner, I just don't believe it.
You might think I'm stubborn or strange,
But long as there's leather and folks eatin' beef
You'll find cowfolks a-ridin' the range.

'Cause cowhides are what we depend on
For makin' the shoes for our feet.
And pot roasts, and T-bones, and tenderlion steaks
Are good food that we all like to eat.

As long as men work for a living.
As long as men walk on the ground,
As long as men need then for shoes and for food,
Then those cattle will still be around.

As long as there's cows that need raisin'
As long as there's saddles and rope,
As long as there's range with water and grass,
You'll see cowboys a-hittin' a lope.

'Cause cows need a whole lot of tendin'
By someone who really knows how.
The cowboy will be hangin' 'round just as long
As there's some kinda use for a cow!!!
--Peggy Arnold

Shorty's Funeral
Today there was a gatherin'
Of folks from all around
Who came to see ol' Shroty
Safely laid into the ground.

It wasn't quite a perfect day,
With snow and howlin' wind,
But weather couldn't turn us back
'Cause Shorty was our friend.

We crowed in a little church
And filled up every pew,
Friends and family, kith and kin,
Just folks that Shorty knew.

And any stranger sittin' there
Could easily have guessed
That Shorty was a cowboy,
By the way his friends were dressed.

The men sat holdin' broad-brimmed hats,
Their hair cut short and neat,
With leathered hands and sunburned necks
And boots upon their feet.

A lady sang a tender song,
And several women cried,
And even some of Shorty's pals
Got kinda teary-eyed.

Then afterwards the preacher read
A Bible verse or two,
And then he spoke about this man
That everybody knew.

"He didn't seem to care too much
'Bout church or Godly way,
And yet, he lived the kind of life
That God would likely praise.

He called 'em like he saw 'em,
And he made us laugh and smile.
I know it's not a lie to say
we'll miss him for a while."

Next, the preacher bowed his head
And said a prayer and then
He asked if anyone would care
To eulogize our frien'.

But none of us a-sittin' there
Could offer phrase nor quote.
It's sorta hard to speak up with
A lump stuck in your throat.

So we just filed past the box
And gave our friend a nod,
And then took Shorty to his grave
And tucked him 'neith the sod.

Ol' Shorty was a cowboy.
There's not much else to say.
He rode with us. He was our friend.
God speed him on his way.
--Darrel Arnold