Bring your flowers to the top of the hill
Kick along the clods of eternal fate
Where the cowboy now rests, forever still
Thought not of dying, wasn’t on his bill
He never dreamt of the Death Angel’s date
Bring your flowers to the top of the hill
Daily he rode, life a jubilant thrill
Going past the place he’d sit his last plate
Where the cowboy now rests, forever still
Sing him a sweet song extolling his skill
Before you throw the dirt upon his pate
Bring your flowers to the top of the hill
His was a good life, a life filled with will
Lies now in his grave, no more to relate
Where the cowboy now rests, forever still
Speak of no bad; he did more than just kill
Take a breath of air and think on his fate
Bring your flowers to the top of the hill
Where the cowboy now rests, forever still
Author notes
After a hard day's work, the cowboy goes home to rest.
Comments
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I like to think that most working cowboys did get burials. a wooden cross maybe. how I like this song in my head.
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Many of the old cowboys probably never got burial especially in
Indian territory but where probably just scalped and left for buzzard bait...
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Masterpiece of Emotions
Beautiful sad lines that takes me on a journey, in the past. Into his life. This read sparkled in my imagery of days long ago; of cowboys, and the old west.....yes he's home now but still a cowboy....like the flowers with all there colors and types...so are the children of God, SHE loves all..an another excellent poem..............Novy
I
you
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