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Cowboy Poetry and Western Verse
Cowboy’s Son
Amy Elizabeth
Ain’t it the truth bout there always bein’ one,
His name was Ben, seemed he never got a dang thing done.
He wasn’t much fittin’ for the teachin’s at school,
An’ when he quit most folks were right quick callin’ him fool.
Most young fellas can’t see past buying their first truck,
Thinkin’ the fat end of a hog was any job that paid a buck.
But Ben was pretty slick when it come to ropin’,
An like his Pa he’d be a cowboy too, least he was hopin’.
He headed down that same trail his ol’ man took,
With Pa’s good name to lean on an a used Billy Cook.
Ben spent hours in the rope corral getting no pay,
An’ steppin’ over colts was only half enough to earn his way.
Folks were callin’ him lazy but his Pa knew it wasn’t so,
He remembered when all that mattered was never missing a throw.
He knew what Ben was thinkin’ but thought better not to say,
Cause for every lucky break there’d be some cowboy hell to pay.
It might’a looked like Ben was getting nothin’ done,
But he’d earn his spurs and someday be second to none.
I reckon it’s true bout there always bein’ that one,
But don’t underestimate the talent of a cowboy’s son.
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