Monday, June 29, 2009


A lonesome cowboy rides a lonesome trail
Out on the prairie he don't get no mail
At night he listens to the cold winds wail
A lonesome cowboy rides a lonesome trail

A lonesome cowboy likes to fuss and fight
When he gets to town on Saturday night
A sweet little filly would make everything right
But he only gets to fuss and fight

A lonesome cowboy puts his foot on the rail
And drinks whiskey as raw as an old rusty nail
He's got sparks in his brain and a burr in his tail
That poor lonesome cowboy with his foot on the rail

The lonesome cowboy, he ain't got a friend
He rides down the trail till it comes to an end
In death's yawning doorway, no message to send
That old lonesome cowboy, who hasn't a friend

Say, who will remember the cowboy's last ride
Not the trail boss, or bartender, fit to be tied
Not the cook with his wagon, or the dude with his bride
That poor lonesome cowboy, who has nothing to hide

One tree on the skyline, the trail turns to sand
The pistol and lariat fall from his hand
On the breeze there's a song, though there ain't no brass band
At sunset's last ribbon, when the trail turns to sand

this was printed in skylark, a little magazine from quebec, around 1991


Mariana Soffer said...

I think this is excellent Timmy, really. Not to mention that I love melancholic poems.
The two words "lonesome cowboy" are beautiful, and I like the thing about the emails to, it gives it an interesting touch.
The guy needs a friend, maybe he is depress (Like in my blog post)

TC said...

I felt bad for the cowboy.

Where are the cowgirls when the cowboy needs them most.


Hoofbeats or heartbeats in the sunset?

Harlequin said...

sweet and sad... and poignant. thanks for sharing this.