Welcome To The Bullpen
A Cowboy’s Last Request
Mike Massey
Lord, when I die don’t bury me beneath the ground so cold,
Just strip my hide and tan me up, then carve and tool me bold.
Slick and dye my edges, then roll and tuck me neat,
My shoulder hide to cover swells, my back for on the seat.
Use my ‘ole neck leather, to wrap around the post,
A three-inch slight-pitch cap, dear Lord, is what I’d favor most.
Slap me on a rawhide tree, put wool beneath my wood,
Then stitch me all together in the places that ya should.
Save my thinner belly hide fer strings and making lace,
As there’s a place fer every part, a part fer every place.
Please be sure my eyelid hide, gets put where I can see,
My pretty blue eyed darlin’ gal, a gazin’ down on me.
I’m thinkin’ on the horn cap, Lord, would surely be the place,
Then I could look up anytime, and see her smilin’ face.
Put us on a real fine steed, one smart, and tried ‘n true,
A handsome, honey buckskin stud, I know would surely do.
We’ll head up through the mountains, as high as we can go,
Through aspen groves and coulees, and last years winter snow.
We’ll ride on up to heaven’s gate, a place I want to see,
Where no more pain nor sorrow, will be waitin’ there for me.
I know that You determine Lord, what is and isn’t done,
I ask this not for laughter’s sake, nor just for havin’ fun.
I swear by all that’s holy Sir, this here’s my last request,
I guess it’s up to You now, and I know You’ll do what’s best.
I’m thinkin’ this a great idea, and I don’t want to boast,
But it occurred to me, for then I’d be, between the two things I love most.
Just one more thing before I go, for this must surely be,
Make sure to stamp your Maker’s Mark where every one can see.
So please don’t let them bury me beneath some old oak tree,
But strip my hide then tan it right, and make a saddle out of me.
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