She was born on a cattle ranch
Alongside a creek branch
On a crisp autumn starry night
In flickering lamplight.
A tiny darling bundle so fair,
A baby with raven black hair,
Born to a land of the horse
She became a cowgirl of course.
She grew by a leap and bound
Taller than most men around,
Now a woman standing six-two
With cat-like eyes of teal blue.
Her silver spurs jingle-jangle,
From chaps hang bangles,
A big roan horse is her sturdy ride
Hitched by a rawhide lasso tied.
She straddles a studded saddle
To herd cantankerous cattle,
On the saddle-horn hangs a guitar
And her sad songs can be heard afar.
Wildly free she rides the plain,
Attempts at wooing are in vain,
Many a cowboy tried their best
But she is a hellcat they attest.
On a starlit night late in June
She rode neath a yellow moon,
Out into the badlands all alone
Nevermore to return home.
Around campfires late at night
When tucked in bedrolls tight,
Drovers swear they surely hear
The cowgirl singing very clear.
When a yellow moon is on high
Galloping hooves are heard nigh,
Over the plain her laughter rolls,
Chilling the blood of many souls.
©Written by: Kenneth J. Ellison 11-15-06
Song title: "Dirty Old Town"
Return Poetry By Ken
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