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| From A Cowboy's Heart by � baldy_4 Buck Ramsey ( 1940-1999) Anthem And in the morning I was riding Out through the breaks of that long plain, And leather creaking on the quieting Would sound with trot and trot again. I lived in time with horse hoof falling; I listened well and heard the calling The earth, my mother, bade to me, Though I would still ride wild and free. And as I flew out in the morning, Before the bird, before the dawn, I was the poem, I was the song. My heart would beat the world a warning - Those horsemen now rode all with me, And we were good, and we were free. We were not told, but ours the knowing We were the native strangers there Among the things the land was growing - To know this gave us more the care To let the grass keep at it's growing - And let the streams keep at their flowing. We knew the land would not be ours, That no one has the awful Pow'rs To claim the vast and common nesting, To own the life that gave him birth, Much less to rape his mother earth And ask her for a mother's blessing And ever live in peace with her, And, dying, come to rest with her. Oh, we would ride and we would listen And hear the message on the wind. The grass in morning dew would glisten Until the sun would dry and bend The grass to ground and air to skying. We'd know by bird or insect flying Or by their mood or by their song If time and moon were right or wrong For fitting works and rounds to weather. The critter coats and leaves of trees Might flash some signal with a breeze - Or wind and sun on flow'r or feather. We knew our way from dawn to dawn, And far beyond, and far beyond. It was the old ones with me riding Out through the fog fall of dawn, And they would press me to deciding If we were right or we were wrong. For time came we were punching cattle For men who knew not sour or saddle, Who came with locusts in their purse To scatter loose upon the earth. The savage had not found this prairie Till some who hired us came this way To make the grasses pay and pay For some raw greed no wise or wary Regard for grass could satisfy. The old ones wept and so did I. Do you remember? We'd come jogging To town with jingle in our jeans, And in the wild night we'd be bogging Up to our hats in last month's dreams. It seemed the night could barely hold us With all those spirits to embold' us While, horses waiting on three legs, We'd drain the night down to the dregs. And just before beyond redemption We'd gather bach to what we were. We'd leave the money left us there And head our horses for the wagon. But in the ruckus, in the whirl, We were the wolves of all the world. The grass was growing scarce for grazing, Would soon turn sod, or soon turn bare. The money men set to replacing The good and true in spirit there. We could not say, there was no knowing, How ill the future winds were blowing. Some cowboys even shunned the ways Of cowboys in the trail herd days (But where's the gift not turned for plunder?), Forgot that we are what we do And not the stuff we lay claim to. I dream the spell that we are under; I throw in with a cowboy band And go out horseback through the land. So mornings now I'll go out riding Through pastures of my solemn plain, And leather creaking in the quieting Will sound and trot and trot again. I'll live in time with horse hoof falling; I'll listen well and hear the calling The earth, my mother, bids to me, Though I will still ride wild and free. And as I ride out on the morning Before the bird, before the dawn, I'll be this poem, I'll be this song. My heart will beat the world a warning - Those horsemen will ride with me, And we'll be good, and we'll be free. The messages are all around us if we only choose to listen. The path is long and hard. Be at one with it. Baldy |