Twitter

Search the Site
Sites To See

Cowgirl True

Local Dirt

Communications4Good

Cowboy Poetry

Cowgirl Tuff

Events Calendar
« 
May 2012
 »
SMTWTFS
 12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
2728293031 

Life, Love & Quiet Reflections

Download Print Send a summary of this page to someone via email.
All poetry is copyright protected.  Reproduction without permission from the author is prohibited.

Astray
by Ronald Shultz


They sing, "Farther along we'll understand."
Oh, how I wish I'd been a holy man,
But I wandered so far astray
Now all I can see is Judgment Day.

I fell on my knees and begged for Your grace,
Then turned around and spat in Your face.
I walked along in my foolish will,
Now I fear that old Boot Hill.

There is a way that seems so right
Even though it leads to death's dark night.
How could I have been so wrong?
All I'm left is a mourning song.

I knew it all. I was so damn smart
When I should have been singing, "My God, How great Thou art!"
It's a long hard road to that field of stone.
Lord, you know I can't face that alone.

God knows I can't undo the things I've done.
I can only cling to the Cross of His Son.
God, please look down below
And save my sin weary soul.

To some here, I don't rate.
Some think I'm just great.
Jesus, you know I know
That my ratings don't count here below.

I'm in trouble, a major jam
If I'm not bought by the Blood of the Lamb.
Jesus, please don't let me go alone
To that dark night and that field of stone.

copyright Aug 1, 1994

Email Ronald Shulz: mavmin@live.com

Website:  http://mavmin.org

Born To This Land
by Diane Tribitt


Precious baby, I would sing him
You were born to this land
And you'll find your way to glory
by biddin' God's command

I have trained colts to a saddle
with patience and respect
With the same heart taught the young boy
to serve and to protect

Cause we're keepers of God's treasures
and keepers of the code
Our deeds today determine what
we'll get back down the road

Now we sit back in our saddles
on horses tired and slow
Got one more bunch to gather and
the sun is hangin' low

As I looked down at the young man
a'ridin' at my side
My eyes near misted over and
I nearly swelled with pride

I'd trained my sonto know the Lord
and follow in His way
a'prayin' he'd stay strong enough
that he would never stray

Precious baby, I now sing him
you were born to this land
As your Father bids you, answer
and proudly wear His brand.

copyright April 2010

Author: Diane Tribitt
Email: tribitt@brainerd.net
Cowboy Up!

Be very careful what you say or do
Or some committee will be coming after you.
I'm tired of folks whining like a hungry pup.
Come on America, it's time to Cowboy Up!

Our ancestors came to a rough, untamed land
And faced their hardships like a woman and a man.
We once matured into gentlemen and ladies.
Now, we're raising spoiled, crying babies.

When times got rough, we took it on the chin.
Now, we want someone to blame and a lawyer who can win.
Groups abound so we are quickly defended
When we lack back bone and are so easily offended!

When a rider's been thrown and he starts to feel down.
His pardners say, "Cowboy Up!" to bring him back around.
There are too many lazy folks rattling their cup.
Come on, America, it's time to Cowboy Up!

We surely have our problems and we so easily sin,
But nothing will change unless we all chip in.
One day there will be no table at which you can sup
Unless Americans quit their cryin' and COWBOY UP!

Old Tired Cowboy

 I'm an old tired cowboy

That don't ride the range no more.

Just an old tired cowboy

Sittin' 'round gitin' saddle sore.

Oh, I'd love to drive them dogies

And have one more night in town,

But I'm an old tired cowboy

That jist cain't get around.

 

I used to love to chase those ladies

And twirl my guns around.

I was wild and I was crazy.

Never thought I'd settle down.

Then Old Man Time

Did what no gunslinger could do.

He put me flat on my back

And now I'm feelin' blue.

 

I remember my pardners,

Fiery broncs and stubborn cows

Now, I'm ridin' a rockin' chair

And my bronc cain't pull no plows.

I used to get off six rounds

Before another man could fire one.

Now, my hands are so twisted,

I cain't even hold a gun.

 

I heard them sayin'

Won't be long 'fore I'm not around.

I'll be a ridin' in a hearse

To a fresh dug plot of ground.

That don't scare me none.

I'm a ready to die

And go herd steer for Jesus

On His ranch up in the sky.

Copyright July, 1995 Dr. Ronald Shultz