West Texas - '86

Three in the mornin' ridin' back to camp from the Bar in Post, been drinkin', cussin', fightin' and shootin' pool with amigos, Mexicans, just havin' fun, like good ol' Texicans - Gusto, Schnieder, Byron and me, pals, and like Jerry Jeff, we was pissin' our youth to the wind, not once thinkin' or knowin' we'd never pass this way again - We spotted longhorn cattle out amongst the tumbleweeds, like Villa, wild-n-free under the bold Tejas moon light, filled with plenty of liquor, and no fear we rode 'em all through the endless night - Hollerin', laughin' and covered with mud from bein' throwed in the drinkin' trough, we hadn't a worry in the world we'd just have another drink and brush it all off - Howlin'at the Texas moon shootin' our guns in the air, afraid of nothin' and narry a care - So, we hit the Wells Fargo along the way just for fun... didn't get much, but like ol' Pancho we lit out for Mexico fast horses, on the run - We never made the border, we were just too damn drunk, and it was too far, had to stop in the desert and sleep it off underneath those quiet Western stars - Outlaws and cowboys we was born to be, but, of course we came along a little too late in the land of the once wild-n-free - We rode that trail often, for as long as we could, rode it hard-n-fast, but the times and circumstances they change and I reckon we always knew it couldn't last - Memories are what we have left now that we've all gone our seperate ways, but I doubt a one of us will ever forget those crazy, fun-lovin', wild-n-wooly days - Though most doubt the wild West tales I do tell, I don't give a damn, and they can all go straight to unbelievers hell - For I have slept 'neath the stars and howled with the coyotes at the full Western moon, if I could I'd do it all again... and right soon - When I get too old to sit a horse I'll go back to west Texas, recallin' the times we had, it may have not been all good, but it sure as shootin' weren't all bad - And someday, I'll ride into Heaven like a real Cowboy should on a prancin' horse so pretty and fine, my ol' pards will open the gate with a grin sayin': ' Come on in, we've been waitin' for ya, all this time! ' - 'If our bones bleach out on the desert, we'll consider we are blessed.' - Tom Russell