Another Rope Burn

Ranchin between the devil and the desert
When Yuma was the west,
Dust devils pirouette across the trail
And a roadrunner stops to rest.

On the endless plain of salmon sunset
The cattle are churnin dust
In the monotony of haze and cactus
He’ll be beddin down at dusk.

Since the weather’s been so blamin hot
This cowpoke goes to talking,
About a coy-ote chasin a jackrabbit
But they was both a’ walkin!

Then desert becomes a curtain of dust
Mesquite singin in the wind,
First raindrops pock the dusty ground
Like pellets in a flour bin.

His horse slips down on hardpan clay
Tumbling over on his side,
But he gets right up a’shakin mud
And the cowboy skins his hide.

The storm moves on in angry rumbles
They ain’t hurt bad this time,
The land steams a muggy freshness
And quells a chokin dusty line.

This crazy cow breaks out of the herd
Making the cowboy chase her,
Spinning around with head put down
He has to give his hoss a spur.

A hot rope burn as raw as a brand
Burnt right through his glove,
When he dallied that rangy bent-horn
In between a pull and shove.

Some bag balm and his red bandana
Wrapped around his hand,
There ain’t no pain or other hardship
That’ll make him quit this land.

Movie buffs that think they’re tough
A’watchin all them westerns,
Ain’t seen a set on the Ponderosa
That ever felt his rope burns.
Ed Keenan © 3-02

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