Gone with the wind... says:
THE LEGEND
The old man sat quietly in the corner of the bar,
As the young men talked of exploits they had,
Of rivers they'd crossed and wells gone dry,
And good days fewer than bad.
They yipped and howled about their lives as cowboys on the range
And slapped each other on the back,
Out-telling one another with stories of their fame,
Of tall tales there was no lack.
The old man, tired of listening, rose to take his leave,
When one young brag eyed him as he passed,
He tipped his hat in salute for he knew what he had seen,
A legend in this time that would not last:
He rangered down in Texas, drove cattle to the north,
Wagon bossed a train across the Great Divide,
He brought law to the west, bucked all that nature gave,
And in the hearts of cowboys never died.
The young man raised his glass as he stood up from his chair,
"Here's to all who came before, may they live forever in our minds,
They're the best that ever were,
'Cause good cowboys are mighty hard to find."
Gone with the wind... says:
GOOD OL' BOYS
We sure did kick their asses,
when they came to take Manassas,
and we did the same again at Chickamaw,
at Gettysburg that night,
we showed them how to fight,
when those Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war,
We were fighting, we were killing,
we were so much more than willing,
when those Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war,
we fought in the sand and mud,
soaked it with their Yankee blood,
when the Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war,
At Cooks Ferry and Hanover,
when they tried to run us over,
we were ready with the bayonet and the gun,
with a rousing rebel yell,
that seemed to come from Hell,
turned their blue coats into yellow and they run,
All we wanted was a country where we could live in peace,
like the southern gentlemen we really are,
but the blue coats wanted trouble,
so we gave it to them double,
when the Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war,
We were fighting, we were killing,
we were so much more than willing,
when those Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war,
we fought in the sand and mud,
soaked it with their Yankee blood,
when the Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war,
They had all the best resources,
more men and guns and horses,
we were out numbered ten to every man,
but when our bullets were depleted,
and they thought we were defeated,
we charged right in and fought them hand to hand,
They used blockades I remember,
in the hope that we'd surrender,
they had Ironclads close to every shore,
then they burnt down our plantations,
drove us pretty near starvation,
when the Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war,
In every confrontation,
that we fought throughout the nation,
we left the blue coats were their bodies fell,
and as their bodies hit the sand,
we stole the rifles from their hands,
then rode off with a rousing rebel yell,
And we were fighting, we were killing,
we were so much more than willing,
when those Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war,
we fought in the sand and mud,
soaked it with their Yankee blood,
when the Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war,
Well, we lost the war, I guess,
but God knows we done our best,
and the Yanks are counting still their men that died,
and though General Lee surrendered,
the south will be remembered,
for it's guts, determination, and it's pride,
For we were fighting for our honour,
while the Yanks fought for a dollar,
and we them more than they bargained for,
well, they came to take our land,
we left them laying in the sand,
when the Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war,
Because we sure did kick their asses,
when they came to take Manassas,
and we did the same again at Chickamaw,
at Gettysburg that night,
we showed them how to fight,
when those Yankee's took us good ol' boys to war.
.
Gone with the wind... says:
Well, Old Pard, it hurts to have to put you down this way,
No better mount have I had in my day.
You are more than my horse, you've been my best friend.
I'll see you in heaven, don't quite know when.
You'll be young and frisky, ready to ride,
tearing through the clouds with wings on your side.
No more aches, no more pains, no more nights in the cold.
A saddle made of angel's wings and a bridle made of gold.
You deserve all of this, cause you've just been "the best".
Sorry.....Old Pard, had to get this off my chest.
When I hear the thunder of a midsummer's storm,
I'll know that's your hoofbeats, just by the sound.
Strong and steady, thundering by,
waiting for me to be by your side.
That day will come......so long, old friend.
Till we meet in heaven, you've been "the best."
,
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