The stranger rode up
as we sat round the fire
it was burning down low
and we were beginning to tire

He tied off his ride
By some brush by a boulder
He was just a young lad
Though in the dark he looked older

We offered him coffee
said sit down, have a cup
We said if you're hungry
There's still food to sup

He accepted and thanked us
Said he'd got lost on the trail
With the north winter winds
Bringing on early hail

He pulled up a stump
I saw a slight flash of tin
I said "you're a lawman"
he just gave a grin

I'm from up in Kansas
was back to my home
Had to visit my mama
she's all on her own

I poured him a coffee
And I told him what's what
I said it isn't the best
But, it's sure as heck hot

I smiled at his lie
And I stoked at the fire
I thought to myself
This man's a liar

I said "in this here circle"
"we may not all be friends"
"so, toss a log on this fire"
"and we'll hear how this ends"

He reached for a log
placed it in, didn't throw
didn't reach for the poker
moved it round with his toe

"The rules of the fire"
"Is that the tender regales"
"The rest of the members"
"with a song or some tales'

"since you just got here"
"and the fire is hot"
"tell us a story"
"give the best that you've got"

He shuffled a little
Took a sip, and began
And it just took a minute
To hook us all, every man

He talked of the rustlers
He'd been chasing around
How they got in a shoot out
How, they'd all gone to ground

He lived life a plenty
For a man of his age
He was just twenty three
But, he spoke out like a sage

He'd regaled us with stories
As the fire burned low
We were all getting tired
But, we did not want to go

He pushed at the embers
Again with his boot
He finished his coffee
And he lit a cheroot

For two hours he talked
Since the fire rules said
that the fire was his
Till we chose to all bed

When we woke in the morning
We found he took flight
He left our small fire
In the dead of the night

The fire was burning
And there was a fresh *** of brew
But the stranger was missing
And our saddle bags too

I was right when I reckoned
That he was telling us lies
I could tell from the way
He didn't look in our eyes

The boots didn't fit
He was just stretching them out
By heating them up in the fire
and moving about

He sure was no lawman
He was a teller of tales
Truths , half truths and lies
He had them by the pail

We packed up our camp
Tried to pick up the trail
Of this campfire thief
With the devilish tail

We knew we'd find him
For liars repeat
He'd come back to our fire
And we'd give him a seat....

See the sunken face of nature,
Hear her shrieking, fraught with woe,
At the city's neon hubris,
Giving off its chilling glow.

See the formless mass of people,
Hear the spinning potter's wheel,
Watch the shape of people changing,
As ideas become real.

See them dancing a quick tango,
Hear them whispering sweet lies,
Wearing masks upon their faces,
Wearing mirrors in their eyes

Living life just for survival, and
Pursuit of mindless pleasure,
While amassing status symbols,
Has become the one true measure, of

A culture whose existence,
Works toward its own demise,
Climbing down a burning ladder,
Numb to touch, and deaf to cries.

Mono tone
Repeated Humm
Western on the screen
Orchestral
this place is
full of time
so many stories
washed away
by the same machine
over and
over
and over
It’s amazing to me
The filth in
A place of cleansing

These hands have done it all
They're tough as wire rope
They've fought to defend freedom
They've carried flags of hope

They've wiped away the salty tears
Of a mother, full of pride
They've folded up our nations flag
For a son, with honor, died

They've held a newborn really close
They've birthed a newborn calf
They've taken down a hundred men
And a hundred more, by half

These hands don't represent me
But, these hands have done it all
They've done eight seconds on a bull
And they've broken through a wall

These hands are soft as leather
And as hard as Georgia Clay
What they did so long before
They can not do today

These hand are all arthritic
Crippled up, and full of pain
But,you know these hands would love just once
To grab that rope again

These hands are full of memories
Built for strength, and not for speed
These hands are built to hold you
Even now, that's all I need

These hands, they tell my story
My life, is in these hands
I don't look at them as crippled
I just look and think....These Hands....

So there Bob was standing right there
buck *** naked
while everyone stared
inside a Saloon
cigar smoke billowing in the air
Someone cracked Bob with a chair
It was Rob
Bob's twin who was a total snob
It was like an old time Western with John Wayne
Bob yelped out as if in pain..
Rob dumped his twin in the mud
telling his twin he's the stud
Bob yelled out again as if in pain...
moments later
A horse flew by with a woman on top
she grabbed Bobs hand and, swung him up
It was Wicked Calamity Jane
And the two road off, in the pouring rain.

Behind the evening's golden glow
The skies are hiding early snow
The road leads homeward toward the glow
Day is done, it's time to go

The gold shows ending of the day
The clouds show snow is on the way
Time to ride and not to stay
I've got to put this one away

Amber fills the autumn skies
Signalling the storm behind it lies
It's time to say our fair goodbyes
And be serenaded by coyote cries

The golden sheen is the sign
Your day is done, as is mine
I'm heading west along the line
Back to the ranch "The twisted nine"

A golden glow before the clouds
filled with snow, a winter shroud
I know the wind is getting loud
So I am off to beat the crowd

Behind the evening's golden glow
The skies are hiding early snow
The road leads homeward toward the glow
Day is done, it's time to go

We used to have a larger group
Ten thousand head at best
Once we had the largest herd
Of Longhorn in the west

But, times got tough, we sold a few
There was the drought back in '11
I didn't know it got so bad
But, now....we're down to seven

Yep, seven steers and cows and calfs
Out standing in our field
There's not a lot of meat out there
It's really a poor yield

The Longhorns down in Texas
Took our football tickets back
They said that our best looking cow
Was like a blanket on a rack

We've done our best to make amends
We'll be on top once more, I'm sure
But, we have to keep the calfs all fed
Or else ....we're down to four

There's lots of land for them to graze
They'll grow big, I am assured
But, now I find it difficult
To call seven head...a herd

Everybody knows
Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic
as the Three "R's" you need
Without them
you'll go nowhere
and never will succeed

Writing...that's a W
and Arithmetic an A
so, who ever came up
With "Three "R's"
was having a bad day

Now, go and ask a cowboy
what the three "R's"
are to him
You'll get a different answer
I'll bet you
one to ten

Ropin', Ridin' and Rodeo
The cowboy's three R list
Reading, Writing, Arithmetic
the big three that I missed

But if they do not have the first three
They are not a cowboy
not a chance
they're just another townie
just another fancy pants

So, to be a proper cowboy
there's six "R's"
they must know
the first three
along with
ridin', ropin, and
rodeo

It was known just as "The Tree"
It was on the fence line of Jade Ranch
And on the wizened, hardened oak
Was a limb, known as "The Branch"

On the branch hung seven ropes
Of seven different lengths
Depending on the sentence
They chose one of seven strengths

Now a posse and a lynch mob
Are two completely different groups
You may always end up hanging
But through two different loops

Get caught with someone else's horse
By someone from on the ranch
Then you'll face Western Justice
And end up hanging from "The Branch"

Western justice it was called
And lynch mobs had a thirst
To see you hanging from "The Tree"
If you didn't meet the Marshall first

Get caught with an extra ace
You'll be called out as a cheat
You will never make "The Tree"
You'll get gunned down in your seat

But, have a horse, that's not your brand
And a lynch mob's soon around
Western Justice will prevail
With you ten feet from the ground

You'll sit upon the horse you stole
No one hears your weak defence
One slap and the verdicts in
You'll hang on the ranch side of the fence

Shoot a man in town and you
Will end up in the local jail
But, shoot him where the Law is not
And Western Justice will prevail

Seven ropes of different lengths
Take a man on to his death
Once the horse is slapped to go
No one will hear your last breath

There's a lynch mob and a posse
You don't know just how close they are
One does what they think is right
One feels the same, but has a star

"The Tree" is there in waiting
For the next rope to be strung
If you aren't caught by the Marshall
From "The Branch" you will be hung

In June of 1870, my Great Great Granddad was playing Poker in the Old West.
Even though he was shot, the law neglected to place the murderer under arrest.
My Great Great Granddad wasn't being honest, he was cheating.
He was plugged through the heart and his heart stopped beating.
When he was exposed as a cheater, the killer blew him away.
Even though it was ******, the law never made that man pay.
When my Great Great Granddad cheated the killer, it was wrong, that is something I won't deny.
But when that man got off scott free, it was also wrong, my Great Great Granddad didn't deserve to die.