“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
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