A Dying Cowboy's Prayer
The night was sprinklin' twinklin' stars
in clusters 'cross the sky...
and down below a cowboy lay,
sick....about to die.
The sky above, the earth below...
was foggy and obscured;
but in the cowboy's feverish dream,
a distant voice was heard,
"Heaven, maybe...hell, perhaps",
declared a distant voice.
"I've weighed the good and bad in you;
and heaven- that's my choice."
Though racked with pain and fever,
the cowboy hadn't died.
Fighting through the fog, the man,
with heavy heart, replied,
"If it's all the same with you,
I like it fine down here.
I'd like t' ride the range again
and rope some racin' steer.
"I like it fine down here, oh Lord!
It ain't for me up there.
I'd miss the crisp Dakota winds
a' combin' through my hair.
I'd miss the cowboy's laughter,
and the frequent barroom brawl;
the ridin' herd on moonlit nights
and hearin' cattle bawl.
The cowboys down at Caseys,
and the mugs a' friendly beer.....
I'd miss 'em! Lord, I'd miss 'em!
I'd like t' stay right here!
"I'd miss ole Cookie's coffee.
I'd even miss his beans.
I'd even miss my worn out boots
and dirty, beat-up jeans.
The mountain mists at mornin',
and the roarin' waterfall,
the thunder and the lightenin'
of the sudden summer squall....
I'd miss 'em! Lord, I'd miss 'em!
I know I'd miss 'em all...
the roundups in the springtime
and the cattle drives each fall.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Pain be damned! The cowboy climbed
a mountain cliff all night;
stumblin' every now and then,
but always clutchin' tight.
When the cowboy reached the crest,
his fiery fever broke;
and in his bedroll on the range,
at daybreak, he awoke.
Never did just wakin'-up
seem such a splendid treat...
not a gray cloud anywhere...
just blue skies, sunshine-sweet.
"Heaven, maybe...Hell, perhaps..."
still echoed in his ear;
and once again the cowboy said,
"I like it fine down here.!"
© 2001 Bette Wolf Duncan
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.This poem has also been titled "Like it Fine Down Here"
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