My Grandpa was a Cowboy
Montana born and bred
Cowboy boots upon his feet
A Stetson on his head
I never saw him out of blue jeans
Or a western shirt
Except when someone married
In a picture at the church
He was charismatic
Weathered and worn
Meant to be a Cowboy from
The day that he was born
~~~*Chorus*~~~
My Daddy would yell
“Kids let’s go!
Your Grandpa’s riding in the rodeo!”
All three of us would be-line for that car
The burning sun did not faze us
We’d squint our eyes in the flying dust
Holler from the stands, with boot-stomping pride
Excitement that no kid could try to hide
It was our favorite thing Yah!
Watching Grandpa ride…
~~*~~
Whenever I smell leather
I think of Grandpa’s chaps,
Saddles, gloves, and his belt
With “Dusty” on the back
Though my boys never met him
They see him through my eyes
Yah, Grandpa was a Cowboy
Man you should have seen him ride!
~~~*Chorus*~~~
My Daddy would yell
“Kids let’s go!
Your Grandpa’s riding in the rodeo!”
All three of us would be-line for that car
The burning sun did not faze us
We’d squint our eyes in the flying dust
Holler from the stands with boot-stomping pride
Excitement that no kid could try to hide
It was our favorite thing Yah!
Watching Grandpa ride…
~~*~~
Teresa Lynn Johnson
Wrdspnr@aol.com
Copyright © 2012
Awesome, what a memory Teresa.
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