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Wild Horses
Once a year we round ‘em up,
to give the Remuda some new blood.
We’ll catch some mares and a few to geld,
we might get a brand new stud!
It’s the most exciting thing,
filled with fun and fear,
rounding up Wild Horses
go and get your gear!
Wild Horses!
Wild Horses!
Ranch life at its best!
Wild Horses!
Wild Horses!
A marvel of the West!
Tails and manes flowin’ back
in the hard wind of their run.
Their ears are up, their heads are high,
Oh! Are they havin’ fun!
They leap and surge and raise the dust
as they flow across the land.
A living beast of many,
that few can understand.
Sometime when you’re runnin’ with ‘em
And wonder overcomes the fright,
you become but one among them
and the freedom gets just right.
Reins and spurs and saddles
And bein’ a cowboy starts to change
You become just another Mustang
Flyin’ over the range.
Wild Horses!
Wild Horses!
Wouldn’t you like to be
Wild Horses!
Wild Horses!
Runnin’ wild and free?
When I’m old and worn out
and only ride a rockin’ chair.
I’ll remember the plain hard work
of bein’ a cowboy way out there.
The rides, the chuck, the trips to town,
camp fires, old friends, and fun,
but I think what I’ll remember most
Wild Horses, runnin’ in the sun!
Wild Horses!
Wild Horses!
A cowboy’s next of kin.
Wild Horses!
Wild Horses!
Runnin’ with the wind!
R.W. “Doc” Boyle
© 04/01/2005
End: Wild Horses (poetry)
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