Back in the time of Gold-Dust and of Guns,
Back when lives were wagered on a card,
Desperate men, those hardened mothers’ sons
Strode forth to settle the nation’s Big Back Yard.
Life was tough then. No radio, TV
For entertainment. No soft feather-bed.
Most didn’t have a pot in which to pee.
Each day, they risked a bullet in the head.
No books for them; no High-Falutin’ Prose,
No tender sonnets ’neath a crescent moon.
In search of Whiskey our brave Cowboy goes
With gold to pay the whores in the Saloon.
That Hard-Knock Life was maybe not the best,
But guys like that, they civilized the West.
[Composed in honor of Cowtown Pattie.]
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