“The cabin i call home“

Below the old rim-rock

is the ranch i call home

Rancho Viejo is how it is known

the boss took me to a little cabin made out of stone

a small little fort that stood all alone

said spread out that bedroll you call your own

cause as long as you work for me

this is your home

backed up to a canyon with only a door

not one window

5ft 5 from ceiling to floor

built by a Texas ranger a short one I’m sure

cause me at my height, I’m 6ft 4

when Villa sent his Army

to raid on the Bright

They knew that they had to stay out of sight

they slipped past the ranger in the dead of the night

cause they knew if he saw them

he surely would fight

the vaqueros and cowboys saddled up to give chase

they knew it was an army they had to face

and they knew they’d have to keep a mighty smart pace

to catch this army would be ,one hellova race

they made to the cabin some time in the night

and told the ranger what happened, up there on the Bright

the store had been robbed

the clerks throat had been cut

and one of their cowboys was shot in the gut

they laid him on the bed in this house made of stone

road out after the bandits

and left him alone

the ranger looked back, just to see

at that old cabin necked up to a tree

next to his home,standing there silent,standing alone

was this young cowboys mount

a strawberry roan

they chased them to the rio

then back to the cabin they head

only to find,the cowboy was dead

somewhere he’s buried out there in the clay

his name on a rock, not to far away

this cowboy is dead and here he will lay

guarding that cabin, tell this very day

i know he’s out there, somewhere in the yard

it’s an awful good comfort, knowing he’s on guard

and when it’s my turn and I’ve played my last card

when i get to heaven

I’ll call him, my pard

Ty Mitchell