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.